A Personal Paradox
by Rigato Caravel
Summary: Marty is convinced he messed himself up after his first time travel journey. He accidentally ends up with a young Doc in the year 1937, the time machine broken. Will he get home, or will he be stuck forever in a world without rock? Doc/Marty
1. A Tribute to Tesla

Dear god, I've pushed the boundaries. A Hitler one-shot, Kyman, Gutters (Goth/Butters) and now this. Back to the Future. This is going to be Doc/Marty, and will be a secondary project until I finish Grounded by Fear. Due to the ball of yarn the Back to the Future franchise made of their storyline, this takes place between Marty and Doc Brown's first meeting and their first adventure with Marty going back in time. I'm placing it around 1984 because I flippin' can XD.

Rig

* * *

Marty McFly sighed and rapped his knuckles impatiently on the garage door. "Emmett Brown? You home?" he asked, leaning his head close to the garage door. Of all days, this was the day his amplifier had decided to fail. The thing had merely crapped out on him in the middle of a playing session, nearly shattering his eardrums in the process. Now he found himself a few doors down at the resident madman of the neighborhood. Great. Just fucking great.

But it wasn't like he had any other options.

The electrician in town was off fixing people's cable and his father had the car. So it was either deal with a busted amplifier and play it off to the guys, or confront the odd hermit he'd heard so much about in the garage on 1640 Riverside Drive. "Look, Doc, you in there?" Marty lifted himself up on his toes to peer into one of the hideously filthy, rectangular windows on the garage door. "I need an amplifier fixed and I was wondering if you could help me out." He raised his voice, hoping the man was home.

The amplifier in question lay on its back on his skateboard, having been irritably kicked and prodded down the road to its surgeon. Marty settled back down to earth and raked his fingers through his brown hair, ruffling it up. His eyes trailed to the white van in the driveway with its advertisement painted on the side: "Dr. E. Brown Enterprises: 24 Hr. Scientific Services"

"Twenty four hours my ass." Marty muttered. He was about to turn away and prepare to kick his poor amplifier back home when he heard a door open. He lifted his head and peeked around the corner of the garage. "Doctor Brown?" he asked, seeing the wild-haired figure pause halfway out of the doorway and turn rather wide, wild eyes toward him.

Marty took a minute to study the person he was walking towards. _Jesus Christ…I think I saw hair like that once at a Van Halen concert._ He thought to himself, clearing his throat. The Doc was wearing a long white lab coat that reached to the middle of this thighs, stained brown slacks, and a shirt Marty was pretty certain had been burnt enough to warrant the trash can.

Doctor Emmett Brown stared back at him, a sandwich in one hand which Marty had to take a double look at. "Uh…" he winced at the greenish bread, seeing the Doc's eyes follow his. Marty pointed at the bread. "Is that…?"

"Benign food mould, nothing to worry about my boy. He said, waving a hand dismissively. "What can I do for you?"

Marty jerked his thumb back to the driveway. "I've got an amplifier that just crapped out on me in the middle of a playing session. You think you could fix it?" he asked. "The sign on the van said you repair things, and my mom pretty much told me I'd have to do it myself if I wanted it done so….I figured I'd come down here."

"Go ahead and bring it in. I'm working on something at the moment so you'll have to excuse me. I've got some very volatile equipment that can't be left alone for long."

And just as quickly as he appeared, Emmett Brown disappeared back into the confines of the garage, shutting the door behind him. Marty rubbed his neck and looked at the moss-ridden wooden slats on the side of the garage as he headed back out to the driveway. "What kind of nutjob lives in a garage?" he mumbled under his breath, guiding the amplifier to the tiny, cracked side door with his feet. The pavement between the garage and the nearby fence felt claustrophobic, and Marty had to guide the skateboard around a few cracks and bumps in the walkway. "Doesn't take really good care of the place does he?" Marty sighed and pushed the skateboard into the garage.

He stopped and stared.

A room like this would give his mother a heart attack!

Papers were strewn everywhere on the floor, books piled to the ceiling and threatening to crash into the garage door. A few workbenches groaned under the weight of mechanics that Marty couldn't even begin to name. Old clothes, burnt rags, chemical vials and strange jars, crates, boxes, abounded with no sense of rhyme or reason. Even some weirdly out of place things like an alto saxophone and a dog bowl overflowing with dried-out wet dog food were strewn here and there. Marty swore he saw something move under the mattress half- buried under an engine block.

In the midst of it all Doc Brown was holding the mouldy sandwich in between his thin lips while tinkering about with something that looked vaguely familiar. The cart stood at least a foot above the Doc's head, whirring noisily away. "Is that the back-up generator for the school?" Marty asked in shock.

"What? No!" Doc knelt quickly and yanked a thick brown blanket over the device. "I'm conducting an experiment based on Nikola Tesla's coil. If it works I should have the world's first functioning force field. You wouldn't happen to have a car between six and eight feet long would you?"

Marty blinked. "Uh…"

"Never mind, I'll find one somewhere." Doc gestured vaguely and his eyes flicked to the skateboard, spying it amongst the mess. He waded over, stepping across a pile of books that wavered for a moment. "What did you say your name was?" he peered at the amplifier closely then stood and fought the mass obstructing him from a large tool cabinet.

"Marty McFly." Marty said.

"Doctor Emmett L. Brown at your service. I actually haven't had a customer since that blasted kid had me help him with his physics final, but failed to specify exactly what sort of physics he was studying. Kid put the terminal in terminal velocity." Doc muttered, tossing tools this way and that until he found a screwdriver. He whipped around suddenly. "Are you the one that lives up the road with the small white car?" he asked, pointing a pair of needle-nosed pliers at Marty.

Marty shrugged. "Yeah, but it's my father's car. So what do you think is wrong with the amp?" he nodded to the downed machine. _No wonder everyone in town says to stay away from him…guy obviously has a screw loose._ Marty thought to himself.

"Ah yes bring it over!" Doc gestured with the pliers to the bed, not even turning from the cabinet. "Just set it there next to the engine. That foul contraption of a DeLorean…I'm about to put a kilogram of Cyclotrimethylenetrinitramine under it and blow it to the blasted moon!" He stuck the screwdriver between his teeth and shoved the tool cabinet's drawer half-closed. He twisted around a table full of empty dog cans and dishes and approached the amp that Marty was grunting and yanking over to the bed.

Marty had the distinct feeling that his poor amp was about to be butchered like a mad doctor with a particularly interesting patient. "Go on and come back tonight with your father's car and I'll have your amplifier. Meet me at the Twin Pines Mall around eight." Doc said, unscrewing the back panel to the heavy amplifier.

His father's car? What did Doc Brown want with his father's car? "I don't think that's such a good idea, Doc." Marty said, but he was met with an impatient gesture from the wild-haired scientist.

"Just bring it, I'll explain everything later to you, Marty McFly."

________________

"This is crazy, this is crazy. He could cut apart your car, or steal it or something. Your dad's never going to forgive you." Marty muttered to himself. "Fucking Christ…what the hell am I doing? The Doc's obviously insane. He broke out of some mental asylum somewhere and he's after your frickin' car. Who knows what he did to your amplifier…" He pulled into the dark, empty parking lot at Twin Pines Mall, spying the Doc's white van parked haphazardly in the middle of the parking lot.

He sighed and pulled up next to it, putting his family car in park and getting out to the vision of Doc Brown pulling out a large black box with an L shaped arm attached to the top of a steel spire, with several thick cables running from the bottom of the box to the very same generator Marty had seen in the haphazard home.

"Come here and help me with this Marty! This is going to be brilliant!" Doc had a gigantic smile spread on his face as he struggled over to the car. "We need to put this on the roof." He grunted. Marty grabbed the edge of the box and helped stabilize it on the top of the car.

"Hold on a minute, Doc…" Marty said, looking at the contraption as the Doc adjusted the arm of the thing to touch the ground around the car. It extended out a good four feet from the side of the car.

"Ah yes your amplifier! I made some modifications to it. There was just a stripped wire that was rubbing up against the speaker and causing a short out." Doc said, awkwardly detaching himself from the McFly family car and running to his van. "Einstein get out of there." The older man said irritably, shooing a large dog that seemed to be at least half sheepdog out of the van. Marty eagerly looked over Doc's shoulder and blanched.

"Doc…is that my…"

"You bet it is. Here, look. The output wasn't nearly adequate when I plugged it in myself, so I recalibrated it to put out a much larger spectrum of sound. Now it should oscillate perfectly with any type of stringed instrument." Doc said proudly, pulling out the Frankenstein-like amplifier. The black casing had been cut open and now wires protruded out and sunk back into small holes in it. The speaker had been replaced with something that sat awkwardly inside, and somehow it seemed twice its original size. "Just trust me, Marty. Once you plug your instrument into this it will never want anything else. Now, to the experiment at hand. If my calculations are correct, this car will funnel the Tesla coil's energy down into the frame, and effectively ground the car to the asphalt. The electricity will form a wormhole effect around the passenger, who will remain completely unharmed!" Doc made a grandiose gesture. "Einstein! Come here boy!"

Marty stared, openmouthed. "Doc, Doc you can't do that to my dad's car! He'd kill me if you blew it up."

"Who said anything about blowing anything up?" Doc asked, seeming as bewildered as he was. "No no this is a simple electrical experiment. The car I was talking about performing an exothermic reaction on was the damned DeLorean behind my garage, not your car." He said as he opened the car door and ushered in the sheepdog to sit on the seat. "Come here." He grabbed Marty's upper arm with a swift movement and brought him over to the generator.

"Property of Hill Valley High School. This is the damn generator! You stole it." Marty said, his voice filled with more admiration than anger. Imagine if Strickland got wind of this! Doc must be some sort of genius in order to lift it from the school's boiler room. Sure, he was as crazy as everyone said he was, but he would make a hell of a prankster.

"I borrowed it, Marty. They would have never let me borrow it and I needed it." Doc said, a bit remorsefully. "I'll apologize to the school board later. Right now science prevails, and since we're at a quiet locale I don't think we stand a chance of getting caught anytime soon. Now, as you can see Einstein is safely sitting on the seat. Note that he's been trained to sit still so that none of his body parts touch the metal of the car. Doing so could be disastrous."

Marty took a look at the dog, ruffling his hair nervously. "Looks to me like he's scared shitless." He said. Well, the madman had his car and there wasn't anything that was going to change that from the looks of it.

"Never mind him, he trusts me. Don't you Einie?" Doc called to the dog. Einstein gave Doc a look that even Marty labeled as nervous through the windshield. "Alright, let's see how this works." Doc clapped his hands together. "Marty, go grab a pair of rubber gloves out of the van, I'm going to need your help."

Marty sighed as he walked around to the passenger side of the van. "This is heavy." He muttered under his breath.


	2. The Blowup

Indiana McFly Jr. – Thank you! I was more nervous about capturing Marty's personality than Doc's XD. Next chapter coming right up!

* * *

Doc smiled as he finished wiring the Tesla Coil to the car's battery. Hopefully, this would both spark a force field without blasting apart the car, but there was a slight possibility of electrical overload on the minor circuits inside the car. Oh well, this Marty McFly could live without a radio as long as he wasn't too fond of rhythmic instrumental noises. The rather nervous-looking teenager came out from behind the van, pulling on heavy rubber gloves.

"Hey, Doc?"

There was that silly nickname again. Just because he had a doctorate in Nuclear Physics didn't make him a physician. The Dr. in his name was supposed to tell people he had a doctorate and knew what he was doing. "Yes, Marty?" Emmett asked, a bit impatiently. The kid asked too many questions, and he could respect that, but he was eagerly hovering his hand over the button to activate the Tesla Coil. The generator had been rumbling beside them for around twenty minutes now, and should be warmed up enough to generate a good charge.

As long as he had enough petrol.

"Are you sure this isn't going to do anything to the car?" Marty sounded extremely worried. "Cause…I have a girl, and if this car dies on me then my chances are pretty much shot."

"I still want to know what the correlation between human females and automobiles is. You can't drive a woman any more than you can marry a car." Doc muttered. "It will be completely fine, don't worry." With that, he plunged his palm down on the button, his eyes focused on the machine fixed to the top of the hood. "Come on…" he whispered when he heard it powering up, the arm swinging in a perfect circle around the McFly car. It swung faster, picking up speed, and a shot of purple-white light swung from the arm to the asphalt.

"It's going to work!" Doc cried when he saw the lightning travel up the arm and swing around the car in a dizzying circle, pulling a curtain of white-purple electricity with it. It illuminated Marty's shocked face in the darkness, and his own triumphant expression. He laughed when a lightning circle elevated above the ground and hummed, seeming to stabilize.

"Holy shit…" Marty mumbled beside him, his eyes locked on the humming, circular shield of energy surrounding the car. The shield shivered once, twice, and Doc felt his blood run cold when he heard the lightning fragment.

"Run for it, Marty!" Doc yelped, taking off across the parking lot as fast as his legs could carry him. He heard another pair of legs behind him. The kid must have good instincts. Doc skidded to a stop when he heard a gigantic boom behind the pair of them, whipping around. His jaw fell open when the cloud of reddish black smoke rose into the night air. The arm was slowing, the cables leading to the generator now connected to a twisted, blasted wreck. "The electricity must have sparked the petrol!" Doc gasped as Marty stared at his car.

"Jesus Christ Doc you…" he gestured vaguely. "…you fried the generator! Look at it! It's completely gone!"

Doc glanced at the car and gulped, grabbing Marty's arm when the teenager started toward the car. "Don't! There should still be a residual charge left in the car's steel structure. Einie don't move!" he shouted at the dog, barely visible now from their distance. Marty tugged at his grip only once, then calmed.

"Is the car going to blow?" Marty asked.

Doc shook his head, angrily raking his fingers through his wild hair. Nothing he ever made worked. It should have worked, it should have worked perfectly! But no…the force field, like everything else, was another failure. Twenty nine years of failures. "It should have worked. It should have worked. I did everything right!" Doc said to himself angrily as he stalked back to the experiment, putting an arm in front of his face when the overwhelming smell of burning fuel and burnt steel hit him. Marty tagged along behind.

"Guess you getting close to it means no." The kid mentioned, cautiously approaching the vehicle. He grabbed the door handle to let Einstein free, swearing loudly and yanking his hand away. "It's hot!" he shouted. He had succeeded in opening the door however, as Einstein ran out of the opening the swinging door provided and made a quick break for the open sliding door of the white van.

"Of course it's hot! Metal has a high conductivity rate. How badly are you hurt?" Doc said, abandoning the wreckage of the generator to grab Marty's hand and look at the burn. The teenager hissed when the wild-haired man peered at his hand. "Alright, let me go get the medical kit."

"No, Doc, I should be heading home as soon as this thing cools off…" Marty looked at the car. "I think part of the seat melted…my parents are going to go insane. It's not going to electrocute me when I get in it, will it?" Doc saw the teen look at the generator and cough, mimicking the arm movement the scientist had executed. "Jesus Christ, Doc. Strickland is going to kill you. He shouts at me for being five minutes late…I can only imagine the shit you're gonna get."

"No, no. Shouldn't electrocute you at all, Marty." Doc said dismissively. "But I believe I have to write a very, very long apology to your school superintendent tomorrow morning." He studied the teenager for a minute as the other muttered swear words under his breath and ran a hand down his face. Well, it was nice having someone accompany him on an experiment like this. He couldn't have hooked the car up to the generator without the boy's help holding the wires. Not to mention without the use of the McFly automobile this entire thing wouldn't have been possible.

"Well look at it this way. You don't have to help me lug that blasted thing back to the school." Doc said cheerfully in an attempt to get his companion to relax. He smiled and dropped his arms, looking at the McFly car.

__________________

Marty cracked open an eye, listening to his alarm scream at him from his nightstand. He was sleeping in his usual odd position, cheek down on the pillow, mouth askew, knees up and one arm hanging over the bed. He lifted his arm and groaned, shutting his eye and hitting the snooze button, the numbers 7:30 engrained into his retina. "I was out way too late last night…" he groaned, pulling himself up into a sitting position and laying his feet on the floor. He hadn't even taken his pants and sneakers off.

He had apparently had the wherewithal to pull his shirt off, but he'd kicked his sheets down into a wad at the end of the bed and his shirt was lost. He pawed around the mess, finding a shirt in the clean pile of laundry on his floor and yanking it over his head. He raked down his scruffy brown hair, blinking blearily into the darkness. Marty had stayed up till midnight kicking his amplifier home on the skateboard. The Doc had told him to leave the slightly-steaming car until the morning, where he could pick it up on the way to school.

Hopefully no one had stolen it.

Marty sighed and ran a hand over his face. "Shit." He muttered, turning off his alarm when the snooze wore off and it began screeching at him loudly again. What would Strickland say about the generator? Would Doc be there to apologize? Marty doubted that the other man ever slept, considering he was using a DeLorean engine block as a teddy bear. He got up and grabbed his skateboard from its place leaning against the door.

Going to school was probably the last thing he wanted to do. He avoided his father's ignorantly smiling face as he passed the family card-table that housed their breakfasts. "Marty? Have you seen the car?" His mother asked, lifting a scotch glass to her lips.

"Uh, no Mom, I haven't. Look, I'm going to be late for school, I gotta go." Marty said hurriedly, slipping out the door before she could say anything further. He gained speed going down the street, catching Doc's garage out of the corner of his eye. "God, I hope he isn't at school."


	3. Dealing with Strickland

Indiana McFly Jr. – Thank you very much, kiddo. Glad you're still reading. Here's another chapter for you to chew on! There's very little well-written Back to the Future slash, I'm glad I could contribute to what I see as a rather cute pairing. Don't run off on me when the romance starts, though XD

The DeLorean car is something I'm very attatched to. As a kid my dad had one, a beautiful silver thing just like in Back to the Future. Actually, he bought it after the movie came out and my mom flipped shit. I slept in the back seat and played time machine in it (I was reading H.G. Wells at the time) for a solid six months. Even then I'd creep in to the garage and take naps in it. When my dad was forced to sell that car (her name was Mirada), it was one of the most heartbreaking things I've experienced.

My point is, I completely empathize with Doc about his love for the car. It's hard not to love them.

Rig

_________________

If Marty was right about one thing, it was that the Doc didn't sleep. The man tossed and turned for three hours on a spare mattress before sitting up, angrily putting on a long, light-tan lab coat and heading outside. The DeLorean sat on four blocks behind the garage, the doors tightly sealed and an array of tools surrounding the time circuits that he had been placing all along the centre axis of the car. "Blasted machine." He sighed and opened one of the gull wing doors, slipping inside to seat on the black leather seat. He pulled the doors shut with one of the handles, hearing the hydraulics glide smoothly against one another as it closed.

Removing the engine had been a security measure as much as legitimate work. A lot of the more troublesome Hill Valley kids had their eyes on the sports car, and they had no problem with taking it from the crazy old man who lived next to the Burger King. Doc rubbed his hand over the steering wheel affectionately. The last experiment had given him a lot to think about. The Tesla coil itself had worked beautifully, but the overload had fried the coil upon further investigation. It was ruined, and if he wanted to pursue it he'd need to find the mass amount of notes hidden in his home somewhere.

"All I'm asking for is just a little break." He said to the ceiling of the DeLorean. The car didn't run, and wouldn't run for another twelve months. Leaving the car out here in the rain and elements made him cringe, especially with the engine sitting in his garage and the time circuits exposed. He rested his feet to either side of the gas and brake pedals, looking at the panel he'd painfully constructed. He'd even cut the glass for the displays himself. The flux compacitor lay silent behind his right shoulder, sitting in the back of the car. The time circuits had taken up too much room for the back seat to be permitted to stay, so he'd cut it out. He'd done so much work on this car he knew her from the inside out, every bolt, even that damn starter spring that kept failing. Though he cursed it more than he praised it, he truly did love the car.

He remembered buying it. He'd been looking for a vehicle to house the time machine after deciding the method of transportation. His first thought would have been a plane or train, as their capacity for quick speed was well-known. But upon seeing the DeLorean for sale he made his critical decision with the last of his money. Besides, it was considerably more stylish than a damn train. This was his baby, his last invention.

If the time machine didn't work, and he failed H.G. Wells, then he would give up inventing. Find a job at a lab somewhere, and then start supporting himself again. Move out of the garage and find a legitimate home, perhaps. It would take a lot to reboot his life, and he would never again attain the wealth he'd squandered in his mad quest, but maybe he could be stable. Normal. Find a woman who could tolerate his scatter-brained sense of ethics and science. He snorted. "I'm pretty sure any woman would run screaming at the sight of any space you were allowed to occupy for an extended period of time, Emmett." He told himself in the review mirror. He thought back to his garage and cringed inwardly. If a modern teenager balked at his disarray, there was truly no hope.

Doc had always felt himself more of an open-minded soul when it came to matters of men and women. He never made any judgments on those who chose to spend their lives with each other, be it two men, two women, or a man and woman. He found it overwhelmingly ignorant. Doc had never felt attracted one way or the other, if one excluded minor run-ins with lab colleagues at the college. Most of them had been awkward virgins themselves.

"How do I get myself on these subjects…?" he asked the empty air in the cockpit of the DeLorean, giving the car an affectionate pat with his palm on the wheel, noticing the placement of the watch hands on his skinny wrist. "Great Scott!" he swore, struggling to open the gull doors and get out of the car. He needed to apologize to the superintendent of the school today! They'd be wondering where their backup generator was, and with the overcast sky overhead an electrical failure wasn't outside the realm of possibility! If the school had an electrical failure then they would be exponentially more angry at him than if the day went normally.

"Einstein!" he called for the dog, who perked up from his doghouse behind the DeLorean and followed him amiably into the house. "Oh, good, I thought you were in the garage for a moment. Stay here. I'll be back soon. Guard the DeLorean!" he took off for the driveway, fishing in his pocket for the keys to the van. He needed to get to the school before Marty, and it was nearly eight o'clock. He didn't want to embarrass the boy by causing a scene with Strickland in front of the other students.

After all, even though he'd stolen it…he felt some sort of responsibility for his actions. Making that deal with the Libyans to produce a bomb over the next year or so was one thing…he didn't feel bad about stealing from them. But the school really hadn't done anything to him. He sighed as he drove down the road.

* * *

Marty ran up the steps to the school, skateboard in hand, his eyes on a clock that hung in the hallways above the long rows of lockers. He was late. The minute hand hung near ten minutes after eight o'clock. Now he had to somehow get to the English class two halls over before Strickland caught him. At this time in the morning, the school superintendent wasn't doing much else than catching kids late to class and screaming at them.

He peeked around the hallway, biting his lip, and slowly crept around it. The next hallway swung into his vision and he kept an eye out for the English room. He was so close. He passed Strickland's office with baited breath, but it seemed the man was in today. He was shouting at someone, no surprise there. At least it would give Marty a free pass to get to English before everyone settled down.

"Look, Brown, if you stole my fucking generator I want it back right now or I'll have you committed the way you should have been! "

Marty froze in mid-step and crept back to the door of Strickland's office. He couldn't see anything clearly through the old, frosted glass, but he would recognize the crazy hair of Strickland's victim anywhere. The man he'd met last night, Doc, was in there. He ducked down beside the door, keeping his skateboard in hand in case he needed to make a quick getaway.

"I apologize. I was performing a simple electrical experiment and the generator overloaded." Doc apologized.

"Then where the fuck is it? And in plain English, Brown!"

"To put it simply, it blew up." Doc said in a rather defeated voice.

Marty heard Strickland take a deep breath and growl softly. "You know what your problem is, Brown? You're a slacker. You don't contribute to society. You live in a filthy garage like a fucking rat and cause hell in this town. You know why my family allowed you to stay here? Because you had money, Brown, and that's the only reason why. Now that you're destitute and sucking off the dregs of people who actually work for a living, if I had my way they'd run you and that fucking van so far out of town we wouldn't remember your name!"

Marty winced. Strickland was in good voice this morning, and the Doc was getting the full brunt of the other man's rage. He felt Strickland shift to move from around his desk. "If you don't get down to the school boiler room and fix this little problem, that's exactly what I'm going to do. Have a court seize all your belongings and have you committed to the asylum on the hill." Strickland said in a low, quiet tone that Marty recognized meant that Strickland was only getting angrier.

"Alright." Doc replied simply, obviously hurt by the outburst. Marty was about to move away from the conflict when he heard the door click. Before he could move away Strickland swung the door open violently, knocking him to the floor on his back.

"Well well what do we have here, McFly? Spying on my office, and late for class again? Get the hell up, boy." Strickland snarled, looking down his sharp, angular nose at Marty. The teenager struggled to his feet, his eyes meeting with Doc's somewhat surprised ones.

"Uh, I was just coming back from the bathroom, actually." He smirked; edging his skateboard out of view with his feet behind the door Strickland had just torn open. Doc followed his movements and seemed to catch the subtle kick, but Strickland's eyes were searching the teenager's face.

"Get. The. Fuck. To. Class. And don't make me say it again, McFly. I'll have you in detention so long your father won't remember your name until he finds the corpse." Strickland said, pointing a finger in Marty's face.

"Sure." Marty said, shrugging his shoulders. Strickland's hand flew out and wound in the fabric of his shirt.

"You have a real attitude problem McFly." Strickland snarled. "Now move it. I don't want to see you here again, ever." He thrust the boy back, his eyes blazing. Marty looked at Doc, who looked a bit surprised at Strickland's rough treatment of the boy. "Both of you get out of here." Strickland moved back into his office and slammed the door so hard the window shuddered.

"I see why you don't like him. Has that man ever had hair?" Doc asked, looking over at Marty. The teenager smiled and shook his head.

"I don't think so. I guess you're in a bind with replacing the generator." Marty said.

"Well not so much of a bind, Marty." Doc replied. "All I have to do is make a secondary circuit that taps into the main one when the power goes out." He shrugged. Marty sighed and looked down the hallway.

"Well I have to get to class but I'll help you with repairing the school, Doc. It's partially my fault that generator blew up. If I hadn't given you that car to experiment on then the generator would still be there and Strickland wouldn't have yelled at you." Marty said.

"Ah, all in the name of science. Meet me after school and I'll show you a few things that can give you an upper hand on that Strickland character." Doc said, patting Marty's shoulder and walking down the hallway.

Marty took off in the direction of the English room. He could do worse as far as friends went than a crazy old man. But the Doc seemed less crazy and more like a genius with a misguided aim. That force field had worked, even though it had overloaded the generator, yet the Doc seemed happy enough to completely drop the discovery and move onto something else. Doctor Emmett Brown was odd, but he was nice and he seemed lonely enough to befriend him.


	4. The Orientation of Time

Indiana McFly Jr. – Thanks! I always thought that Strickland would hate Doc as much as Mart since he compared them both in the first film as useless members of society XD. Thank you for the thoughtful reviews!

My dad just gave me an ORIGINAL print of the Back to the Future poster he snatched from a movie theatre way back in the day. I looked up the worth…nearly 350.00 USD. Holy shit. Thanks Dad!

Ok, I didn't want to paraphrase the first movie, so I'm sliding in between the gap between the first and second.

_______________

Marty sighed as he laid in bed. That had been nearly a year and six months ago. The DeLorean, the time machine, had worked perfectly. A little too perfectly…his brain was still catching up. Seeing his parents transformed from alcoholic, submissive twats into real people have drained him. Doc had suggested he go home and get some rest, but how could he sleep? How could anyone sleep? How could anyone breathe knowing they'd seen events before their birth? It was far too much to think about. Suddenly the odd bouts of insomnia Doc suffered seemed all too relatable.

It wasn't just the time travelling…seeing Doc laying there dead had done something to him. Even though now he had altered time to make sure he was alive and well, the sight of seeing him shot had constricted around his heart. It had shoved cold water down his throat and frozen his insides as badly as the steel of the DeLorean. Marty had relatives die before, people he had cared about. His grandparents, his Uncle Joey being jailed, many occasions in his life he had a chance to mourn.

Doc's death, however temporary, had shut down every emotion he thought he could feel.

He sighed and looked over at the clock. Four in the morning. Four o'clock, November 6th, 1985. Everything was supposed to be fine, so when Doc had blinked his eyes, why in that single second had he felt like pulling the other man to him as close as he could possibly get him? To feel him living and breathing, to touch his skin? "This isn't heavy…this is like someone dropped a planet on my head." Marty mumbled miserably, rolling onto his stomach and nuzzling into his pillow. God he needed sleep! His mind needed to reboot from all the crazy shit that had happened.

Wait a minute. His head shot up from the pillow and he scrambled out of bed, still completely dressed. That was it! He'd screwed up the way his parents had gotten back together and it was messing with the way he was created, which meant that perhaps he made himself gay! He needed to speak to the Doc…he needed to fix this! He needed to be normal again!

Then he needed to talk to Jennifer. He needed to kiss her again and feel right with the world.

Marty snatched his skateboard, ignoring the fog in his brain that told him he needed sleep now more than anything. But this couldn't wait. He opened his door slowly, praying his parents didn't wake up. His mother traditionally drank until around this time and passed out in the kitchen, and his dad went to bed religiously early, but God only knew how they would act now? The house was ten times cleaner than it had ever been, his brother and sister both had respectable jobs and his parents were as affectionate as teenagers.

He crept past his parents' room, horrified to hear the sounds of bedsprings creaking and soft moans. "Oh Christ Dad…" Marty winced, hurrying his footsteps to get as far past the room as possible. He'd never even given thought to his parents having sex in the middle of the night before. In fact, he would have laughed had anyone brought it up. Hearing it was something mind-blowing entirely.

He felt his face twist into a mask of disgust as he put his hand on the doorknob of the front door, opening it and slipping quietly out. The skateboard clattered to the pavement and he leapt aboard, kicking off out of the driveway and heading down to the old garage on Riverside Drive.

__________________

"Doc!" Marty ripped open the side door to the garage, not surprised to see his friend laying on the cot, snoring loudly. Suddenly he felt guilty for breaking into his home in the middle of the night…Doc had been through just as much as he had. Marty flipped up his skateboard into his hand and laid it next to the door, sitting down on a pile of rags. "The hell are you doing, McFly…" he groaned, resting his head into his hands and running his fingers through his hair. Pedaling furiously here had drained him of the panicked energy he had.

Marty forced himself to stand, wading through the mountains of sketches and dirty clothing to look down at Doc sleeping peacefully on the bed. He smirked, sliding his hands into his pockets. Peacefully really wasn't the word for it. Doc was n his back, limbs flung every which way, mouth hanging open and snore that made the dog curled at his feet twitch every few seconds. Marty reached down and rubbed Einstein's ears. "Hey boy." He said softly, earning a tired lick from the shaggy dog. "Sorry we put you through all that." The dog must have been going crazy with time shifting around him, though Marty knew Doc would say that the dog wouldn't even know what happened to him.

He felt his lids getting heavier. He'd lay down for a few hours, then he needed to talk to Doc. It wasn't like there was another bed in here, though. Marty patted the dog and walked back to the pile of rags, arranging it in a bed-like mat before sitting down on it. Not too bad for a makeshift bed. Doc had enough of these things laying around, citing the never-ending quest for rags to clean the DeLorean. These seemed clean enough. Marty sighed and laid down on his side, shutting his eyes and giving into the need for sleep.

* * *

Marty cracked open an eye sleepily from his makeshift bed. Unfortunately some machine part he hadn't seen had been jabbing him in the ribs all night. He frowned and sat up, placing a hand on his ribs. Next time he'd clear a spot on the floor before he attempted something like this. His eyes roved around the carpet of papers and books…not a chance. He'd just not sleep over at the Doc's again.

He ran his fingers through his hair, his eyes blearily searching around for the Doc. He smirked when he saw him slip through the makeshift door to the small back-yard where the DeLorean sat. Of course. Doc was thrilled he had something that actually worked the first time he tried it, after years of calculations and work. He had to make sure it wasn't a dream.

Marty grunted as he pulled himself up, hearing his spine pop loudly. Definitely not sleeping over at the Doc's again. He leapt over a few spare car parts and the remnants of the old Tesla coil experiment, following the Doc out the back. "Hey, Doc?" he called questioningly. The older man let out a yelp and swung around to face him, eyes wide and hair more askew than usual.

"Don't sneak up on me like that, Marty!" he admonished, raking his wild hair down into some semblance of normality. Which, for the Doc, meant everything looked windblown instead of psychotic. "How did you get here so fast? It's eight in the morning already. You'll be late again."

"Look, Doc, about last night…" Marty said, chewing his lip as the Doc's eyes softened and the scientist put a hand on his shoulder.

"How are your parents? Still married? All your siblings accounted for?" Doc searched his face for a clue as to why Marty seemed so reluctant to talk.

"No, my parents are fine. More than fine, actually…they act like a couple of teenagers." Marty allowed himself a small smile. At least his parents were happy. "Look, Doc, you think something else might have been screwed up by the time machine?"

Doc patted his cheek. "Marty whatever things that you find odd in this new alternate universe you created by that untimely meet with your father, you'll get used to it. If your parents and your siblings are happy, and we're all not about to be sucked into a black hole, then what is there to worry about? I'm already planning my next trip." He said cheerfully. "I thought of going into the future, but I want to do this first. It's something to do with my family history. Come here, look." Doc gestured to the time machine, hurrying over to the gull wing doors and opening the driver's side.

"Doc I wanted to ask if I've been screwed up. Like if kissing my mother did something to me." Marty asked hesitantly.

"You kissed your mother?" Doc pulled his head from the cockpit to give Marty a critical look.

"She came onto me!" Marty protested.

"As long as your father married your mother and copulated to produce you, then there's nothing wrong. History would take over from there." Doc said dismissively, sliding into the driver's seat. "Come here, I'll show you where I'm going." Marty sighed and rested an arm on the open door, peering into the car to see the time-circuits.

"1937? World War Two, Doc?" He asked, his turn to raise an eyebrow now. "Talk about out of the frying pan and into the fire."

"Wernher Magnus Maximilian Freiherr von Braun. My grand-uncle." Doc said. "Worked under the Nazi regime as a Schutzstaffel member. My entire family moved to America because of him. Changed our last name, tried to start over. But it is because of my grand-uncle that the Nazis gained the power to fire rockets."

Marty blinked. Brown, von Braun, it made sense. "Doc, weren't you the one who told me it wasn't right to alter the course of history? Besides, the Allies won the war, and we're in America. You know how impossible it would be to travel to Germany in the middle of World War Two? You'd get shot." He said in concern. "I'm still not sure it's a good idea to use this thing at all…what I said earlier, I was serious. I think something might have screwed me up."

"Marty, paranoid delusions are what would be the death of this entire project. If I have a chance to make something right…" Doc sighed and looked at the time-circuits, switching the screen off. "…you're right. Besides, if my ancestors had never moved here then where would our friendship be? I would have never invented the time machine because I would have not possibly inherited as much wealth as I did. Nevermind. It's a foolish fantasy."

Marty looked down at the ground, shuffling a rock into the shadow of the DeLorean with his feet. Doc thought he was nuts for thinking he was screwed up…everyone was happy, why couldn't he be? "Doc, I think it made me, you know…gay." He said heavily, his eyes locked on the form peering wistfully at the glass screens.

"Why shouldn't you be happy?" Doc asked blithely as he got out of the DeLorean, shooing Marty to the side so he could grab the doors and shift them closed. "You probably shouldn't be any more late, Marty. That superintendent of yours is quite the brute about it as it is, and I need to do some work on the DeLorean. Some of those branches you covered it with got stuck in the reactor. It'll take me all day to work out and I need to get some parts." He looked at the discouraged teenager and patted his shoulder. "Marty, if you're truly concerned talk to your parents. See if there's anything in your past that could give clues."

Marty nodded and went inside to grab his skateboard. Being late again couldn't help his chances at graduation. He'd talk to his parents tonight to see if anything hinted at abnormality. Was he still with Jennifer?


	5. The Brown Mansion

Cyanide13 – With Doc and Marty, the romantic feelings are going to be slow. Very slow. It's a very strong friendship, and a very platonic one. I want to treat it with respect. Good things come to those who wait, and awesome things come to those who review XD

Indiana McFly Jr. – Ooh sorry to break your heart, honey, but the slash isn't coming for a while yet ~winks~ I'm not that predictable. I've got to build up a story first. Sex is the last thing on my mind with this one.

_________________

Marty walked up to the front door. He'd forgotten his backpack, so going to school had been a complete bust. At least he'd dodged Strickland for the day, but he hadn't seen Jennifer anywhere at school, and that scared him more than anything. No Jennifer, no mention of Jennifer. He'd seen her when he got home, he'd kissed her and she'd seemed to know him. So why was her locker empty?

"Hey mom?" Marty asked as he opened the door, looking around the oddly-clean house for the smiling woman. "Did Jennifer call?" He walked into the kitchen, setting his skateboard against the wall like he usually did. He'd forgotten about the time change…everything at school had seemed normal except for Jennifer.

"Marty I thought she didn't call you anymore since you two broke up. I did hear you kissed her from her mother though. She was sort of upset." Lorraine said, coming into the kitchen with a bowl of salad. "Jake called though. He wanted to know why you two didn't go to the lake on Sunday." She winked at him, smiling and popping a carrot slice in her mouth. All the colour drained from Marty's face. "What's wrong? I don't mind you being gay Marty. Your father had a friend like that in high school before he moved away. Besides Jake is a nice boy, and very handsome."

Marty felt like throwing up. The time machine had changed things. It had changed him and Jennifer. The world was spinning around him, the edges of his vision getting blurry. How…how could the time machine change something like that? Change who he loved? But look at his parents! Anything was possible with that thing. "Jesus…" he turned and ran for the door, feeling drunk and sober all at once. He didn't care at that moment what his mother thought of him, his mind was reeling.

There was no way that the time machine could make something like that permanent! He'd change it! He had to! Go back in time, and warn himself to never, ever let his mother get near him. Kissing her must have screwed him up somehow. There was no time to talk to Doc about this, he needed to get to the time machine and he needed it quick. His sneakers flew across the asphalt, his eyes desperately looking for the old garage. Doc would be out, he had to get parts. God, hopefully he'd repaired the time machine. But knowing Doc, the man wouldn't have delayed at all in repairing his baby.

He skidded into Doc Brown's driveway and tore down the narrow pathway to the backyard. He'd have to negotiate the car down this little alleyway but it was possible. The Doc got it in here after all. Marty yanked on the door handle and wasn't surprised to see the absentminded man had left it unlocked. "Shit, better leave a note for the Doc." He muttered when the gull wing door slowly rose up. Marty ran into the garage via the back door and pulled a piece of paper from the floor, scrabbling around for a pen.

His stomach twisted into knots. "Dear…Doc…" he whispered as he wrote. "Taking the time machine…fucked something up getting Mom and Dad back together…I'll send you a letter from the past to be delivered here 3pm November…6th…1985. I'm sorry." He slammed the paper down on Doc's workbench, grabbed the spare set of keys, and stumbled over various car parts as he ran back to the DeLorean. He leapt into the driver's seat and pulled the gull wing door down.

He typed in the date to the time circuits. "1955. Two hours before I crash into that stupid barn should be enough…" he muttered. "I can find somewhere to crash, get myself up, and keep me from barreling my dad out of the street. Somehow." He slammed his foot onto the gas and twisted the wheel mightily, turning into the empty road and flooring it. The speedometer rose up, the needle raising and hovering at sixty. He downshifted and felt it rise higher.

He was going to fix this, he had the power to fix this.

* * *

Doc rubbed Einstein's ears as he drove, smiling softly at the dog. "It's alright, Einie. We'll fix those damned time circuits. I couldn't have traveled anyway with them defaulting to the last setting like that. It's a good thing I caught it or else I might have gone back to 1955 again and really screwed things up." He sighed gently. At least he had put a spare tube or so of plutonium in an isolated case in the trunk of the DeLorean. Getting stuck in World War Two would be the end of any silly experiments he wanted to do.

"If I couldn't at least fix my family history at least I could least see Nikola Tesla before he died. One of the greatest men in science, Einie, and I could meet him." Doc sighed wistfully as he turned into his driveway. He picked up the wires he needed to repair the time machine and ushered the dog out, shutting the doors. "This will be a quick fix, I'm sure." He locked the van and headed down the small alleyway.

His heart froze when he saw an empty, yard. A yellow patch of grass remained where the DeLorean was usually parked. A high pitched noise of alarm escaped his throat and he whipped around. Several of the stones from the pathway were torn up. The noise turned into a full on yell and he gripped his scalp. Someone had the DeLorean! His life's work! He ran into the garage to see a note, scrawled in Marty's unkempt hand, on his work table. He snatched it up and read it, his eyes wide. "For the love of Edison!" he yelped, running back outside.

"The time circuits…" he muttered under his breath. He hadn't had a chance to repair them from the damage done by the branches. That meant Marty wasn't headed to 1955, but 18 years earlier. Marty was going to be stuck in the middle of the second World War. How could the boy have done something so stupid?

He lifted his arm up in the air and checked his watch. 3:34 pm. The mail would have already been delivered by now. Doc ran out to the mailbox he'd taken from his original home and ripped it open. A package was there, bound up in old butcher paper with string….with his address and name printed clearly on it in Marty's handwriting. "Oh God…" Doc's hands were shaking as he took it out. Marty was there alone.

______________

Marty yelped and slammed on the brakes as soon as he felt the tires hit grass. Cows ran, mooing wildly, out of his way and dirt rooster tailed behind him. Rain hailed down on the windshield and Marty risked taking a second to flick on the wipers.

"Holy shit!" he yelped, struggling to keep control of the vehicle. Farmland stretched in front of him as far as the eye could see, and lights wobbled in his vision. The town was here, but the Hilldale housing complex wasn't in existence at all. It was just fields and cows as far as the eye could see, with a gigantic house on the top of the hill.

The DeLorean skidded to a stop at the edge of the field. There was nowhere to hide the vehicle, and the mud meant that driving it any further without letting the terrain dry out was next to impossible. "Fuck!" Marty slammed his palms against the wheel and was shocked to hear the starter sputter out and the engine die. "No…no no no no no you son of a bitch!" he screamed at the machine. "Doc, God damn it you fixed the fucking time machine but not that stupid starter spring." He glanced down at the time circuits.

"What the…" he hit his palm against the screen. 1937?! He could have sworn he typed in 1955! "…Fuck, fuck fuck!" He rested his forehead against the steering wheel, sighing heavily. Rain thundered down around the outside of the car and he turned it off, looking out to the house on the hill. Well, there wasn't anything he could do tonight. He needed to find shelter and make a plan. Some food wouldn't be bad either.

He opened the gull wing doors and swore. The cows at least had the sense to lurk among some trees that were growing near the fence that held them in. Marty stepped outside and slammed the door shut, beginning the slow slog up the hill to the house. His eyes caught the name on the mailbox. Brown.

This was Doc's house! But Jesus, how old was he?

Marty ran up to the huge front double doors. This house could fit three or four of his own inside of it! Doc lived in a place like this? He must have been loaded when he was younger! Marty paused for a minute, mentally doing the math. He'd been there for Doc's 65th birthday this year, he remembered. He'd cleaned the garage up, much to the scientist's shock and dismay. That was in 1985, this was 1937.

Doctor Emmett Brown would be seventeen…his age. For some reason that excited him more than scared him. How would Doc look younger? Those lines were going to be gone, the slight, tawny streaks in his hair in 1955 were probably a good indication of his hair colour. Marty took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

No answer. Marty knocked again sharply and the door opened. He had been expecting Doc, but an older man faced him, slowly taking a pipe out of his mouth. He had a smoking jacket on, obviously reclining and perhaps reading…waiting out the storm until the morning. Marty shivered, putting his arms around himself.

"Come in, son. You looked soaked to the bone, boy." The man said, standing aside and waving him in. Marty nodded in thanks, shivering as he squeaked his soaked Nikes onto the foyer. Marble…impressive. He stared around at the huge home, the sweeping stairs that led up into corridors filled with wooden doors.

"Wow." He muttered, wiping his dripping hair out of his eyes. He turned slightly to see the imperial man staring at him and felt guilty. The man of the house had Doc's nose, though his hair was a deep walnut and oiled back against his head, and a pair of round-lensed glasses sat on his nose. His eyes weren't wide like Doc's, but narrow and rather mean-looking.

"Sorry…Marty McFly." Marty held out a shaking, wet hand.

"Andrew Brown." The other replaced his pipe between his teeth and gave his wet hand a firm handshake. "Pardon me for saying so, but I have never, ever before seen dress like yours on an Irishman. Where are you from, Martin McFly?"

"Hil-uh…Hilldale…Wisconsin." The name of the state popped into his head and flew out of his mouth before he could stop it.

"Ah." Andrew said, his eyes looking up at the stairs. "Emmett, would you please guide this young man to a hot bath? You'll be staying here tonight, if you don't mind, Mr. McFly. Go ahead with my son."

Marty nodded, but when his eyes fell on the lanky form on the stairs his heart stopped. Doc was standing there as plain as day, brown-blonde hair as wild as ever. There were no lines around his wide eyes, his nose wasn't as crooked, there weren't any scars from random experiments on his hands. One of those young hands clutched a cloth-bound book. "Doc." Marty breathed softly.

Emmett ran his fingers through his hair and came down the stairs, looking Marty up and down. Andrew nodded to his son and wandered back to the den. "Dinner will be at eight o clock. I hope you'll be feeling better with some food in you. Tomorrow we can see if we can't find your parents." Mr. Brown's voice thundered softly from the reading room.

Marty didn't feel like he could move as Emmett sighed. "Well, I guess you'd better come with me." Emmett said. Marty couldn't help noticing that the rough timber was softened by youth. The slightest accent tinged Emmett's voice. He followed the much younger Doc up the stairs, his eyes roving up and down his best friend's body.

"Jesus Christ…what have I done?" Marty muttered under his breath.


	6. Calvin Klein, Brilliant Chemist

Indiana McFly Jr. – Ah, my faithful reader! So good to see you again. Thank you, I'm always wary of going into OOC or non-canon…two of my pet peeves, personally. I'm glad to see the chapter is to your liking.

Bttfmjffan- Cool story bro. --I thought you were a /b/tard for a minute XD

___________________

Marty sighed and rested his head back on the ceramic ridge of the claw foot tub, feeling the warm water ease the cold away from his aching muscles. He picked up the soap bar and rubbed it against his arms and chest, thinking. He couldn't leave the DeLorean in the rain like that, but he didn't have anywhere to hide it, and he couldn't push it through the mud in this slog. Maybe those trees at the edge of the clearing would do for a good hiding place.

He washed off the soap suds, closing his eyes. Doc had looked amazing when he was younger, but the boy had barely glanced at him. He'd led him to the bathroom, looked at his weird clothing, opened his book and let him be. Marty sighed and groaned. This was an entirely different Doc. He wasn't even a PhD yet, for God's sakes! He was just Emmett Brown, a kid just as old as he was.

"God damn it. I wonder if Doc put any extra plutonium in the trunk…" Marty whispered, running his hand down over his face. Stubble…he hadn't shaved since he traveled back in time the first time. He eyed the blade that Emmett had left for him. "Fuck that." He muttered. It was a straight razor, something straight out of Sweeny Todd. There wasn't anything that was going to convince him to use that thing. He'd deal with the five o'clock shadow.

Emmett had taken his clothes to dry off, leaving him with a pair of pajamas that were a hideous shade of tan. Marty drained the tub and grabbed a fluffy white towel from the top of the toilet, wrapping it around his waist. Where were his clothes? Young Doc…Emmett…had carried them off somewhere. "Uh…Do-Emmett?" Marty questioned, leaning out of the doorway with one hand on the towel to protect his decency. Emmett was nowhere to be seen. The hallway was silent, and only the ticking of a grandfather clock said anything about the downstairs. He sighed and pulled back into the bathroom, rubbing himself dry with the towel.

1937. The Doc had said something about having a bad family history with a guy named Wernher von Braun. He recalled something about the Doc babbling about the inventor of the rocket by that same name. Doc's grand-uncle had invented the rocket? Made sense, since von Braun's grand-nephew would go on to invent the world's first time machine. Genius must run in the family.

If anyone could fix the damaged time circuits and the starter spring so he wouldn't accidentally end up in the Stone Age, it would be von Braun. The trouble was, he was stuck in the middle of 1937 Hill Valley, America. How in hell would he hitchhike his way to Germany with the time machine? More importantly, did he really want one of the most evil men in history getting his Nazi hands on the time machine? Doc would kill him.

Though Nazis running all over 1985 might be pretty cool. They could get rid of Strickland for him at least. He smirked and ran his fingers through his wet hair, pulling on the pajama bottoms but leaving the top. He didn't feel too comfortable wearing a pajama shirt that had 'E. B.' stitched on it. He smirked when he saw the fabric pool around his feet a bit. The Doc had always been a few inches taller than he was.

"Emmett?" he asked again, his ears listening out for any trace of the other boy. "I need to talk to you about your uncle. I think he might be able to help me." There it was, the slight sound of someone shifting around. Marty padded down the hallway to a room at the end, opening the door to see Emmett examining his red jacket closely with a magnifying glass.

"Interesting fabric. It looks a lot like that new low-density polyethylene that was invented two years ago, but it's fabric…and completely waterproof! It's very flexible and filled with the same material. Soft, too. Incredible." Emmett muttered, shifting the jacket about to look at the zipper. "Did you make this?" he lowered the glass to look at Marty, blinking when he saw the boy not wearing a shirt. "And why are you naked? You had better get that shirt on. If my mother sees you we'll never quiet her down again.

"Uh…no, not really. I uh…the shirt was too small." Marty rubbed his neck. "Can I have my shirt back at least?"

Emmett rooted through the small pile and lifted up Marty's red t-shirt and white overshirt. "They're soaked. I'll leave them out to dry." He shrugged and set them down again. "But it's these pants I'm really interested in. And your underclothing. I've never seen a stretching waistband like that before. It's like you've taken silicone and found a way to make it pliable at room temperatures. The man who makes your clothes is a brilliant chemist…Calvin Klein? Is he a German?"

"Look, Emmett, I have to talk to you about your uncle. Von Braun. I think he might be able to help me." Marty said. "I can't stay here forever, I have to get home."

"My family doesn't talk about him." Emmett said dismissively, and Marty could definitely see Doc's simple way of passing things on he didn't want to talk about. That habit would stick with the kid for a long time. "Speaking of which, how did you get here?"

Marty despised getting wet again, but Emmett had allowed him the use of an overcoat and some rubber boots in order to show him the time machine. He shivered in the cold, Emmett tromping through the mud alongside him with a flashlight in one hand.

"I came here in a time machine that you invented." Marty shivered as they approached the soaking wet time machine. He could see Emmett's eyes grow wide as he stared at the DeLorean. "Something's wrong with the time circuits. It bumped me back here instead of 1955…" he said softly, but Emmett didn't seem to be listening. He put his hand hesitantly on the DeLorean, running his hand along the steel.

"What sort of contraption…this is an automobile! But like nothing I've ever seen…you come from 1955?" Emmett swung the lamp back to look at him, eyes wide.

Marty shook his head. "1985…It's a long story, Emmett, but I need your help. We need to get this thing to your grand-uncle." He said, pulling his collar up against the rain. "He invented the rocket, he can fix this thing. I've got something to power the time circuits, I just need him to change them so that it won't blast me back even further."

Emmett ran his fingers down the car again. "Nikola Tesla died last week. I never got to meet him, but it sounds like he would have been the perfect man for this." He said. "I think…I think I can help you get to Germany. But it's going to be a long road, and you're not going to like it. My father's been encouraging me to visit the fatherland someday. A bit sooner than he thought, but what the hell." Emmett smiled, his eyes sparkling with the thought of adventure. "Alright, future boy, let me show you to the sort of automobiles we drive in my time. It will certainly lug this small thing to the coast, and from there we can charter a ship."

Marty smirked at the old nickname and followed Emmett around to the back of the house, where a large white car with a folding top sat on a paved driveway. "A Cord 812." Marty said with a smirk. He'd seen a picture of it in Doc's garage a few times before the photo had disappeared back in the pile of rubbish. Emmett smiled and knelt, reaching under the front fender and pulling out a key.


	7. Long Road to Germany

Indiana McFly Jr. – I'm so, so sorry I haven't updated for nearly 20 days! Dear god! I'm ashamed! Thank you for sticking with this.

Half-hearted heroine – I hope you find it favourable!

Roxy Likewise- Thank you! I usually don't think of this pairing, but I think it's rather adorable.

Herbert Khaury – I don't know about the parents. I think what I believed at the time is that it helped illustrate the 'new parents' he has. They seem the sort who would have sex versus his old parents, who I'm fairly sure never had sex beyond conceiving Marty. XD Thanks for pointing it out though! The Doc does have a pretty random mind… I tend to think he sorts through things like lightning.

* * *

"Quit twisting around. I assure you it's perfectly fine back there…the chain is secured to the axle and as long as we don't stop too fast then there's going to be no accident on my watch." Emmett said, sounding a bit peeved. Marty mumbled an apology and turned back around, sitting down heavily in the white leather bench seat. "We also need to cut your hair and teach you some German. An American would never get into Germany bumbling around like you do. The Nazis would shove you in an oven faster than a loaf of bread if they even suspected you were anything but an immigrant." Emmett chuckled, though Marty's heart sank deeper into his chest.

The DeLorean was covered with a heavy canvas sheet, bouncing around on the rough road behind the hulking car Emmett was driving. The time machine was safely hidden, but every so often Marty found himself in terrible fear of the canvas sheet slipping off in the heavy rain and revealing the time machine for what it was. All the other times, he was staring at the freakishly young Doc, whose eyes were focused on the road. Remembering that first experiment with the Tesla coil, how wild of a ride the Doc had taken him on, made him wish this version of Emmett knew all the things Doc did about him. It was strange having to re-tell this…this boy, who was still so much smarter than he was, his story.

Actually, it was getting a bit tiring telling him every five minutes.

"How did you time-travel? Is your 1985 self still back there in 1985? Or have you gone to 1955 and you don't know?" Emmett babbled on curiously, shooting questions at him like a machine gun spitting out copious amounts of pellets. Marty shook his head.

"Doc, that's not how the fourth dimension works…or…uh…that's what you always used to tell me." Marty said, biting his lip. God, did everyone wear pants like that in 1937? He couldn't tear his eyes away from those shapely legs, nicely flat rear… Did Doc still have them at his age, or was this a one-time only thing?

"Marty?"

Marty looked up to see Emmett glancing over at him every five seconds. "I asked what the fourth dimension was and you're staring at my hips." He said, frowning in a puzzled fashion at him. Marty gaped for a few moments like a fish opening and closing.

"Sorry." Marty said. "It's something I screwed up in the past…the future…that I need to fix."

"What is it? I might be able to help." Emmett said cheerfully, though Marty couldn't help but think that he was only asking because it gave him an opportunity to learn more about time travel, and not because he was truly concerned. But then again, it was Doc. The man was boundlessly curious even in his old age, and when forty years was taken off the count, it made Emmett about as curious as a puppy.

"I think I'm gay." Marty said in a rush, chewing his lip. The poor piece of flesh was being clawed ragged by his teeth.

"Why shouldn't you be happy?" Emmett asked, laughing. "I'm glad."

Marty sunk down into the chair, resting his chin on his chest. "I mean homosexual." He mumbled under his breath. He could feel Emmett's stare traveling down his face and melting holes in it with its intensity. "What?" he asked suddenly, looking over at the driver.

"Oh. Nothing." Emmett said, focusing his attention on the road.

________________

"Great Scott! The time circuits were off by twenty two years! A decade, Einie, do you know what this means?" Doc shook the paper with his calculations on it, hyperventilating almost as badly as the dog. "God! I'm seventeen! Seventeen Einie! He meant to meet me again when I was thirty six! I'm sixty-five now!" He slammed the paper down onto the crowded desk and plopped down into a squeaky chair, his hand flying up to cover his eyes.

"Einie…I can't do anything! I can't send him a letter without another time machine and I lost the schematics months ago! I didn't think it would work! Great Scott, his parents…they must be so worried now. They care now." He ran his fingers down his face, looking at the dog, who had his head tilted curiously, one ear up. "We should go over to them. Tell them everything's alright."

He stood up and uneasily waded through the piles of papers, blinking when a very familiar, triangular sketch landed on his foot. He knelt and picked it up. The flux compacitor…not that it would help now. There was no way he could make another one, it had taken weeks to get that one made, weeks of trial and error. Weeks of tweaking, testing, doing things he could no longer remember how to do. Much as he hated it, it was the only one of its kind, and without a big enough kick to send Marty back to 1985 then he was stuck there. In World War Two! The kid would never survive.

This was his entire fault. He put the sketch down on the desk and walked out of the garage, making the slow trudge up to the McFly house. He had to tell them that Marty was gone…they would have to notice! The boon last time was that Marty had such inattentive creatures for parents that leaving for even a night wasn't at all noticed.

Did the boy even know what time he had left, so he would be able to get back without a significant time gap?

Doc paused on the front steps of the McFly household, his hand poised to knock on the front door. Maybe this wasn't a good idea. Inciting panic in parents who obviously loved their son. They couldn't do anything even if he did tell them. His hand dropped and he turned to sit down on the front doorstep, head in his hands. "Oh Marty." He muttered, raking his fingers through his thinning hair.

Well, he had to trust the boy. He had to. It was up to Marty now.

* * *

"So, I've read things about Germany…uh…it can't be too hard to get there right now, right?" Marty asked. The drive was taking hours, but that was to be expected. The fastback rolled along amiably behind the hulking steel mass pulling it. "1937. That was the start of some of the bad things in Germany, right?"

"Only if you're a Jew or a Pollack. As Americans we don't really have anything to do with the war at the moment." Emmett said cheerfully. "We let Hitler does as he pleases and we let him alone. I doubt we're going to war with him at all. It's too far away from here. The Neutrality Act did a lot for us…sure hope Roosevelt knows what he's doing."

Marty stared out the window, sighing. "What about the time machine?" he asked.

"If we pass it off as something else the Gestapo will never know." Emmett said. "They'll inspect it thoroughly, but as long as nothing looks like a weapon it will be photographed, categorized and stored."

"Wait, we won't have control at all? They're going to take it from us?" Marty sat up straight in his seat.

"Well what did you expect?" Emmett looked over sharply. "They're too afraid of anything that's not made by their own hands. They won't have a clue without someone who's scientifically minded, and with luck my grandfather will be exactly the man called in to examine it. With even better luck, we'll have it fixed and then all that remains is to sneak it out of the country. East to Spain will be our best chance, and we'll probably lose this car. Don't worry about a thing, Marty."

"Worry? When I'm headed straight into Nazi Germany?" Marty began to rethink this. The only person who could fix this blasted machine was three thousand miles away in a country run by a fascist dictator who was known to shoot people based on ancestry alone. His mind ran back through his ancestors. He wasn't really Jewish. A mutt of Irish descent more like. Irish…the Nazis didn't hate the Irish did they?

"It's really not that bad. I've gotten letters from my grandfather about it." Emmett shrugged. "An American in Germany is only going to get in if he is as committed to the party as they are. Prove your loyalty and they'll probably let you in. I mean, even Reichsminister Goebbels isn't the perfect image of Aryan descent and the people love him. A bit off his rocker if you know what I mean but who isn't in that country?"

"How are you going to get back here? I'll go back to 1985, but what about you?" Marty asked curiously.

"Well If I'm not dead in your time it means I got back alright." Emmett said.

"That's reassuring…" Marty sighed and turned his head to look back out the window.


	8. The Pit Stop

I'm sorry for not updating this thing in a while. I did want to finish my Butters/Goth fic, and since this is my only one I plan on finishing it.

Marty stared at the gas pump, watching the numbers slowly rotate and click upward. He was mesmerized, enchanted by the slow revolution of the ancient gas pump. The circular brand on top of the tall, skyscraper-shaped pump was cheerily lit. It glowed soft letters into the night as Doc filled up the tank. The ancient contraption dinged after every fifth cent, reminding them of the cost. Marty could see Emmett counting under his breath, the mist puffing out of his mouth with every digit. From what he could tell, he wasn't counting the money. He was counting gallons, simply from the sound of the fuel splashing into the car.

The teenager watched the other. Emmett seemed so lonely, like he hadn't encountered another teenager at all before Marty had stumbled quite literally onto his lawn. He was awkwardly dressed, his hair beginning to hint at the wild mess of his old age, but his eyes were still bright. That mind of his was always thinking. Just like the random strain of thought that had led to that huge subwoofer in his garage, just for Marty to play on. Marty smirked affectionately at the thought, turning his attention back to the pump. Fifty cents. What a joke. Fifty cents couldn't get anyone far in 1985.

His mind began to roam again. Emmett's pants when he'd bent slightly to get out of the car. Those awful pants hugging his slender hips and tight-

"Is it full?"

Yes was his first thought.

Marty blinked and looked back at Emmett. Those large brown eyes were staring at him expectantly. "Or do you not have gasoline in the future? I suppose everything runs off of hydrogen. Ha! And to think I thought of it before any empty-headed future scientist could wrap his brain about it." He smiled. "Most abundant resource this universe has to offer and we just pass it along!"

"No eh…we have gas." Marty rubbed his hand behind his neck. "Just costs about a hundred times more is all."

"Five hundred dollars for a tank! Tell me is everyone in the future that rich or are you all destitute from a failing economic standard?" Emmett asked in surprised, pulling the nozzle out and replacing it on the pump. He patted his pockets. "Well the nuclear wars could have destroyed most of the oil fields in the future. I don't suppose you still use coins, Future Boy?"

Marty reached in his pockets. Two quarters, a dime and a nickel. "Yeah, I got it Doc." He said, slipping the coins into the slot. He was faintly surprised to hear the clink of the cash inside the tin machine. 1985 quarters worked in 1937 machines? Who knew?

Emmett smiled and shut the fuel door. "Well then let's be on our way. I don't think my parents will notify the proper authorities for a while yet." He said, pulling open the driver's side door.

"Listen, Doc, can I talk to you for a minute?" Marty asked.

"If only for a minute Marty. We have a long way to go." Emmett said brightly, as if looking forward to a long road trip.

Marty ran a hand down his face. "You think we could check into a hotel?" he regretted the words the second they came out of his mouth. It sounded so low of him, especially when he'd been eyeing Emmett the entire time. Like something the scumbags at school would ask their girlfriends to do on the weekends. He couldn't help the redness creeping up his neck into his cheeks, his tongue scrambling to take back the words. "Uh…you can't drive all night Doc and uh…I don't know how to drive a clutch…" he said weakly.

"Good idea Marty. It wouldn't do for one of us to fall unconscious and trash one of the greatest adventurers of the modern age." Emmett said thoughtfully, nodding. Marty looked vaguely taken aback.

"Uh thanks Doc."

"I meant the time machine. And why do you keep calling me Doc? I have no doctorates at all, though I plan to." Emmett said, frowning a bit. "But in any case you're right. I have a few dollars. Should be enough to rent a room. You don't mind sharing a bed?"

"Just the one room for the night."

Marty felt a shiver up his spine as Emmett paid for the room. His eyes kept wandering down his sides, down those thighs. He wanted them clasped around his waist, that skin against his, his lips against that attractively pale throat. His heart beat faster when he thought about the both of them in bed. He would get to see him naked, exposed-

"Marty." Emmett was facing him now, holding up keys. "You look exhausted. Your retinas keep glazing over."

Marty's eyes flicked to the man at the rather debilitated looking counter. The man eyed him back, scowled, and turned to his bookkeeping. The hotel was faded like an old photograph, all tans and poorly installed wallpaper. The hotel has dark wood lining everything that darkened the area and made it very claustrophobic. Marty ascended the stairs, hearing them creak under his sneakers made him think of an old horror film. "I feel like Krueger's going to come out and jump me." Marty mumbled under his breath.

"Sounds like a German name. Is it because you're feeling anxious about the trip?" Emmett asked behind him.

"No Doc, it's a slasher flick. Just came out about a year ago back in 1985." Marty explained as they reached the hallway and Emmett unlocked their room. He was about to explain further when his eyes spotted the bed. Emmett put the hotel keys on the small, grungy nightstand and flopped on the covers, yanking off his shoes. He sighed happily. "Who would have thought cotton, springs and wood would look so appealing assembled like this?" he asked the ceiling, chuckling. He sat up and pulled his shirt up over his head.

"Doc…uh.." Marty turned his back, hearing the rustling of fabric.

"Marty it's very common for young males to share beds. Quit acting like there's any impropriety." Emmett said irritably, sliding under the bedcovers. "There. Look."

Marty turned around. Emmett was sitting up, hair ruffled, his narrow bare chest exposed to the air. Marty approached the bed, sitting down on the other side. Emmett laid down on his side, watching the other teenager. "Night Marty." He said, closing his eyes. Marty sat still for a moment, then pulled his shirt over his head and unbuckled his pants. This was way, way too heavy. Sleeping next to the confusing object of his affections. He laid down in bed, his skeleton as stiff as a board, on top of the covers in his skivvies. He shivered and swore under his breath, sliding between the sheets.

Three hours passed, and Marty's eyes were still wide open.

Emmett was breathing gently, his face peaceful. Marty breathed in to inhale his scent. God, what was he doing? He had Jennifer back home! Here he was staring at Doc like he was a piece of meat. No. What was going to happen was he was going to sleep, and not think about how naked Emmett was under the covers. How naked they both were. How uncomfortable his briefs were getting.

God damn it, there had to be a test for this sort of thing.

He knew he liked Jennifer from the first time he'd seen her, but it had only been confirmed when he'd kissed her. Maybe…?

Marty propped himself up on his elbows, breathing in deeply. He leaned in close to Emmett's face. God, without the wrinkles he was beautiful. Nerdy, like the sort of kid the football team stuffed into lockers, but beautiful. He reached out with a shaking hand to touch Emmett's hair. The thick, kinky locks that grew on Doc's head tangled in his fingers like some sort of booby trap. Marty pressed his nose to them, inhaling his scent. Faint smells of chemicals, must, and the natural boy smell Emmett possessed.

He drew back his head and cupped Emmett's head in his cheek, pressing his lips to Emmett's. This was far different than anything he'd felt kissing Jennifer. His hips felt like a bolt of lightning had hit them. They moved, mimicking movements he'd only done in very private sessions in his bedroom. He applied more pressure, moving his body closer to Emmett's. He wasn't thinking anymore, his body was begging him for more. He opened his lips and licked Emmett's, moving his body closer. He could feel the heat from both of them mixing under the covers. His heartbeat built in his ears. His hand was trembling when it reached out to touch Emmett's hips under the covers. Soft briefs were covering the skin underneath, but even these light touches were enough. His mind drove him to wake Emmett, to do things his mind backed away from like some bizarre chemical experiment. He wanted to drive his hips against Emmett's, to make him cry out his name. To see his body arched with every touch…

Marty pulled away, panting like he'd just run a mile, his eyes closed. That had felt a lot more intense than the kisses with Jennifer. Sure he'd felt something in his groin, but never in his heart. He opened his eyes, seeing Emmett laying blissfully unaware, then turned over in bed. He pulled the covers up over his shoulder.

Shit. Now he'd never get to sleep.


	9. You Sure, Kid?

The next morning Marty felt like eyes were staring at him. Like he had 'Pervert' tattooed on his forehead for the world to see.

The hotel had a small diner attached to the side of the old building like a leech. Marty had been staring at the deep, steamy depths of his coffee the whole time Emmett had been bolting down a ham sandwich.

"Are you alright Future Boy?" Emmett asked him.

Marty's wrist stopped stirring his coffee and he looked up. "Yeah Doc, I'm fine." He said. In truth, his mind was still trying to wrap around the night they'd spent together. After the kiss, he'd simply laid awake in bed, thinking. His brain hadn't stopped moving since that moment, that heated moment his lips had touched Emmett's. He took a sip of his coffee, inwardly blanching. It tasted like motor oil. "Are you sure about this whole Germany thing?" Marty asked, trying to steer the conversation away from his deep thoughts.

"That's why I woke you up early." Emmett replied. "We have a lot of preparing to do if we want to convince them you want to join the Wehrmacht."

"Doc I can't even spell that…" Marty trailed off.

"The Foreign Legions. They're always looking for the likeminded, and as long as you prove yourself they're going to eat up whatever you tell them." Emmett said, lifting up a small stack of papers. "I took the liberty of using the notepad they leave in the hotel rooms to write you out some things about the Germans you're going to need to know. I thought they would have thought to teach this in some Ancient History course back in your time."

Marty frowned. "I…uh…sorta flunked that class Doc." He said shamefully.

"I would have been holding you to a higher educational standard. What do we have if not history to teach us what is right and wrong?"

Marty ran his fingers through his hair, looking down at the wooden mess of a table holding up their coffee cups. Emmett peered at him. "Never mind. Now, you know the leader is Chancellor Adolf Hitler. His second in command is the Reichsfuhrer-SS Heinrich Himmler. He's head of the police force as well as most of the Army, so you're going to have to keep a strict eye out for him. Chances are you'll never see the Chancellor, but the Reichsfuhrer is very superstitious and you're bringing him a technological goldmine. Not that they're going to figure out a bit of it. I looked inside and I could barely figure out the futuristic automatic steering system they put in. Genius really." The young inventor said proudly.

"Doc, I don't think you invented the steering system…" Marty corrected him. "That's uh…another guy."

"Oh." Emmett looked a bit disappointed. "Well regardless, he's going to be very curious so there's a chance you'll speak with him. Another pair of folks you might run into are the two dangerous ones. Doktor Joseph Goebbels, and the head of the Gestapo Klaus Barbie, the Butcher of Lyon."

"The Butcher of…?" Marty felt a sinking feeling in his stomach.

"It's not an occupation in case you were wondering." Emmett said, looking up from his notes. "Anyway, Joseph Goebbels is very close to the Fuhrer, and fanatical about his political party. You'll know him when you see him, he's the shortest man ever photographed." He chuckled at his own joke. "Klaus Barbie isn't a laughing matter. He'll probably do your evaluation to see if you're fit for the Foreign Legion, particularly since you're bringing them something of extraordinary significance. Don't joke with him, and don't say you're from the future. Just say you found the car and brought it to the people you thought could do the most good. Feed them the most nationalistic bull-shit you can."

Marty was feeling a bit overwhelmed by this point. "Aren't you going to be with me the entire time?" he asked.

"I'm already a German, they're not going to be very suspicious of me, especially since I'm related to one of their researchers." Emmett pointed out. "Don't worry Marty, I'll make sure nothing bad happens to you."

"Listen, Doc, no offense but how are you going to do that if I'm stuck in some facility somewhere?" Marty asked miserably.

"Don't worry, I'll figure out something." Doc said cheerily. "We're close to the coast. I've arranged for a boat to take us to Germany. The captain was nervous about sneaking into such closed borders but I assured him that if he held my father up for ransom he'd be paid handsomely."

Marty finished off his coffee, pulling a dollar out of his pocket and putting it on the table. "Let's keep moving. If you're going to piss off your dad like that I want to be out of the country." He muttered, jamming his hands in his pockets.

Doc took a deep breath and knocked on the McFly door a second time with his aged knuckles. He was practically prancing on the doorstep, torn between running away and facing the decision to tell Marty's parents why he was missing. It was crazy, but hopefully they'd not just toss him out or call the police. He cared a lot about Marty, even more so now that his parents were normal. The definition of normal here being…well that they behaved like actual parents.

He savored an exhale, his eyes roving around the door. They had to be here. He pressed his ear to the door, frowning and raising one eyebrow in his particular fashion. Footsteps approaching the door, voices inside. He drew back and tried to tame the wild mane of white hair on his head, clearing his throat when Mrs. McFly opened the door.

"Oh…Doctor Brown. We thought it might have been Marty." She said. Her face looked drawn, haggard, and Doc could smell alcohol on her. That worried him. Marty's mother hadn't shown the slightest sign of being addicted to the drink since Marty had changed the past. She stepped aside and Doc entered the home, nodding to her in greeting. "Have you seen him at all?" Lorraine asked in concern as Doc awkwardly entered the living room. He recognized Marty's sister, his older brother now moved out of the house…and another young man. He seemed quiet, mournful.

Doc sat down on a chair, chewing his lip. He was at fault for all of the suffering the parents were going through. If he hadn't implanted ideas in Marty's head…the time machine couldn't solve all problems. In fact, the more one messed with one's timeline the more tangled it became. It was always best to just leave well enough alone. To be an observer in the matters of time, not a meddler, was the best strategy. "I don't uh… think we've met." He said to the forlorn young man, trying to make eye contact with him.

"This is Jake Adams." Lorraine said, taking a seat next to the boy. "Marty's boyfriend." She grasped the young man's hand. "He's been looking for him all night."

Doc was thunderstruck. Boyfriend?

Then more had changed than he'd thought! Marty was right. The tampering with the timeline on their adventure had changed far more than the way their parents had gotten together. No, it had changed their children. His sister was self-confident, well-dressed whereas before she had been frumpy and foul-tempered. His brother wasn't a lay about with a poor job, he was an office worker. Marty hadn't changed on the outside, but…perhaps on the inside?

"Doctor Brown?" Lorraine was looking at him oddly.

"Sorry! Eh, I've got to go!" Doc stammered, leaping up out of the chair. Marty? Homosexual? Something had definitely changed. He ran outside, heading to the McFly garage and flinging the door open. The same large, black truck stared back at him. But the picture of Jennifer scotch-taped to the dashboard was missing. Doc looked back at the house. It seemed like the family was too busy making fusses over Marty's disappearance to notice his snooping. He opened the unlocked door of the truck and slipped inside, shutting it behind him. Nothing to indicate Jennifer at all. A picture of Jake was clipped to one of the sun visors.

Doc settled back in the passenger seat, sighing. "I wish I'd listened." He muttered.

"Look kids, I ain't sure about this. Are you sure we're not going to get caught? Your father's really gonna have to pay me for this one, because I don't want my hide stretched across the front of a German boat, if you know what I mean. They're not damned friendly." the ship captain had asked the question at least ten times, and chain smoked about twice as many cigarettes. Marty could smell the nervousness off of him…and he didn't blame him one bit. They were in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, past the point of no return. The captain had informed them they had just enough fuel to get to Germany. From there, he would have to steal petrol to get back. The ship had to pass by France and Britain…sailing between men who would kill them for what they carried. Marty leaned against the side of the canvas-covered DeLorean, watching Emmett try and calm the old man.

It wasn't going well.

"The chances of us getting caught are astronomical." Emmett argued. "We're coming in on a trade vessel with no markings, with the cars under covers. There's no reason anyone has to suspect us! It's one ship, one ship amongst thousands who sail the English channel. We just happen to be travelling laterally, not vertically." He folded his arms when the captain looked unconvinced. "Demand my father throw in an extra thousand…he'll pay it." He muttered relunctantly, seeing the captain chew the end of his cigarette for a moment. He nodded.

"Alright kid…but if I get into any trouble with the Germans don't think I won't sing like a canary over a roastin' pit." The captain warned Emmett. The boy smiled at him and leaned against the car next to Marty.

"See? Nothing to it." He said cheerfully. "Now listen. You're a conscript wanting to join the Wehrmacht. I'm a scientist trying to get into the rocket program they've got. I can, because I'm technically a Von Braun. My uncle will hear I've come over from America and he'll probably agree to meet me. You're going into the army, so you're going to have to lay low for a bit while I work with my uncle and fix the machine. Just try not to get yourself noticed."

Marty chewed his lip. "Doc…" he began. "…what if I do get hurt? What if you get killed and I never see you again? What if they blow up the time machine? Then I'm stuck here! I never see my family again…" he ran his fingers through his hair, ruffling up the locks. "…this is all or nothing. We either fix the machine and I can go back…or the Nazis get the most powerful piece of tech they've ever heard of."

Emmett patted Marty's shoulder. "And what if the boat catches on fire? What if we're caught? What if, what if?" he smiled. "Don't worry. I've got this all under control. I'm a German. All I have to worry about is you not making too much of a spectacle, being American. Come on, let's go to bed. We've got a long boat ride. It's going to take us a week or so." he happily walked down the steps leading to the cargo hold, Marty in tow.

Their bunks were miserable little things, narrow as planks with thin cotton padding that Marty wouldn't let a dog sleep on. He was shocked at how easily Emmett got to sleep. The boy lay down, turned over, and was snoring gently within minutes. Fortunately, this gave Marty time to think about the episode in the hotel.

It had taken them nearly six days to travel to the east coast of America, and all the while Marty had insisted on sleeping on the floor. He couldn't risk another weak point. He was here to be fixed, to right the wrongs that kissing his mother had done to him. At least, he hoped the problem was that he'd kissed her. He chewed his lip. Emmett had awoken so many feelings within him. He let his eyes rove once again over his sleeping companion. What he wouldn't give to…no. He turned over, his back facing Emmett's and the uncomfortable plank digging into his shoulder blade.


	10. It Could Happen Without Notice

Emmett patted Marty's back as he hung over the railing, his body convulsing and his mouth spewing bile into the black ocean roiling below. "Just let it out. You'll get your sea legs soon, don't worry about it." Emmett said comfortingly, rubbing Marty's back up and down. Marty had to keep his eyes shut, just looking at the winking whitecaps was making his nausea rise again. "You should have eaten that mint. Sailors keep it on ships to help with the sea sickness." Emmett said in amusement. The ship bucked and hissed beneath them, tossed on a wild current. While there was no rain, there was wind. God there was wind. It screamed and shrieked above their heads, tearing into Marty's hair and whipping sea salt onto his cheeks.

"You boys get the hell below!" The captain snarled at both of them. Marty couldn't contemplate moving. He wanted to be chained to the iron railing and left to puke his guts out into the sea. To think he thought of moving to Cali and becoming one of those surfer bums! Hah! With waves like this he didn't imagine how anyone did it, much less ride them.

"Now! We're in the middle of fucking nowhere and I'm not tossing a life ring out in this fucking storm!"

Marty felt his shirt being tugged, Emmett trying to disengage him from the railing. Marty's fingers tightened on the bar, but the salt-slicked steel betrayed him. A buck of the ship's deck and he tumbled back against Emmett, slamming them both to the ground. Two rough hands seized Marty and Emmett, hurling them toward the stairs. "I said get below! You two are going to get yourselves killed!" the captain roared for a final time. Marty grabbed Emmett and stumbled below deck, hearing the storm door slam behind him.

"Oh God…oh man…" Marty let go of Emmett as soon as the scruffy nerd got his legs and seized the wall like a leech. He dry heaved against the plaster. This was even worse below deck! He could feel every hitch, every buck, every movement of the boat. It was what he imagined violent sex would be like if nature were having it. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Emmett sit down on his plank bed.

"Marty, sit down before you fall down." Emmett said, scrambling around for a bucket for Marty to put his head in. "Do they not have boats in the future? Or have you just never been on one? Ridiculous. You were the one wearing what I imagine to be a sailor's vest when you came to my house." He muttered when Marty lurched and found his bed, sitting on it and grabbing the offered bucket.

"It's not…a sailor's vest." Marty gasped between heaves. "It's…just…a coat." He dry-heaved into the bucket again. "Whatever the Nazis do, don't let 'em put me on a boat."

"They're not going to hurt us." Emmett sighed, sitting next to Marty on the cot and rubbing his back again. "I don't know what they taught you in that future school. They're people just like everyone else."

"Yeah, and next you're going to say killer robots are people." Marty mumbled against the side of the bucket.

"That's a contradiction in terms. Now, just lay down…on your stomach, with your head hanging over. The closer you are to the ground, the better you'll feel." Emmett said calmly, helping his friend lay down on the cot. "Just…weather the storm." He rubbed Marty's back.

Marty closed his eyes and breathed deeply.

In.

Then out.

In.

Then out.

Never again on a boat.

Morning came, and with it blades of light that shone down from the storm door and ripped off Marty's eyelids. He lifted them wearily, pulling his head up with his eyes. It seemed he didn't have any muscles left, they'd all been shaken to jelly by the storm. Emmett was in a similar state, exhausted from staying up late. He had been trying to get Marty to sleep peacefully, and in return had gotten no sleep himself.

"Rough night, boys?" the captain chuckled. "Look, we're in calm seas now. We're on the border of Portugal, we got a bit knocked off course. We're headed north for the English channel. Just thought you boys ought to know that. Get upstairs for breakfast, cook's got oatmeal on the boil."

The sound of footsteps, and the blades of light dissipated.

"C'mon Marty…breakfast." Emmett mumbled, patting Marty's back. "Let's go get something to eat."

Marty pulled himself to his feet, his sneakers squeaking on the floor. He rubbed his face wearily and looked over at Emmett. "I'm sorry I kept you up so late." He said guiltily. "But thanks for staying with me." He smiled at him. The other teenager blushed and attempted a small smile.

"Um, I would have done it for any friend, Future Boy. But to tell you the truth, I…didn't hate your company. Even sick." He said, getting to his feet. "Well, I think a big bowl of crushed oats and milk is exactly what this situation requires." Emmett beat a hasty retreat up the stairs before Marty could see another word. He simply followed the scientist up the stairs and got in line for a bowl of oatmeal.

What they got certainly didn't look like oatmeal. It was thick enough 'to stand a boot up in' as proclaimed proudly by the chef. Marty felt like he was eating thick chunks of oat-flavoured mud. It hit the stomach like bricks, and Emmett's wishes for milk and brown sugar were met with chuckles from the four other crew members. "How did the cargo fare?" Emmett asked as he dug into the mess with his spoon.

"Got a bit knocked up, but otherwise it was fine." The captain shrugged. "Didn't know if it was fragile. Pretty sure I heard glass breaking."

Marty's face went ashen. The brick in his stomach turned into a ball of lead. Emmett had a similar expression. Marty shoved his bowl onto the serving table and bolted for the canvas covered time machine. He stopped, unsure of what to do, then ducked under the thick cloth. What he saw made him want to lean over the railing and throw up again. No. The side window had been completely smashed in, and the windshield was cracked. A quick lean inside revealed his worst fears. The flux compacitor was cracked…straight down the middle. The triad had been severed, the bottom two oscillating tubes were hanging nearly free of the frame. "Oh god…" Marty sat down on the deck, covered in canvas. Tears welled up in his eyes. There was no way to fix this. There was no way to get back home. He was sitting here on a ship bound for his own doom.

Doc was tearing apart the garage as quick as his fleet little fingers could manage. "There's got to be the repair manual in here, Einie!" he said in a panic. He'd written himself a repair manual, complete with diagrams of the flux compacitor, in case he was in a situation like this one…where he desperately needed to remember how the time machine actually worked. Papers flung this way and that. Old experiments quickly followed by forgotten sandwhiches, oil cans, and bits of steel he'd been planning to make into…something. The dog whined, lowering his ears. His master sounded like he was on the verge of crying.

Doctor Emmett Brown sat down heavily in the rubble, irritably rubbing a grease stain from his brow. It only succeeded in making a large brown streak across his forehead. "It's in the DeLorean. It's got to be. I must have put it in there when I was fixing the time circuits. But without it, I can't send any sort of communication back through time to Marty! He's got to know about my uncle! He's the only man that could fix that blasted contraption. Not that I don't have any faith in Marty, Einie…he just doesn't know a socket wrench from a lug nut. How the hell will he know the difference between the time circuits and the main breaker for the nuclear reactor?" he threw up his hands in frustration and sighed. "I wish I'd written that manual in English. But no, no no I had to encrypt it. I had to make sure that no one who picked it up off the street could steal my invention. Now it's come back to bite my ass! Even if Marty does find my uncle through some miracle, neither of them will know how to read the stupid thing!"

Doc chuckled at the ridiculousness of the situation, shaking his head. "Einie…I've run out of ideas." He said with a heavy sigh. "We just have to hole up here and hope none of the McFlys get any weird ideas. We can't have them sniffing around, might mess things up more than they already are. We've got to be on the lookout for ourselves as well. Who knows what meeting a younger me might do to the future? How do I know I'm not already changing?" he rubbed his chin and looked at the confused German shepherd sitting in his garage. "It could happen without me noticing, Einstein..."


	11. Passion at Sea

"There's no way to fix this! Even if we do get to your uncle in time, it's not going to do anything! Look! It's shattered, Doc…and I'm stuck here." Marty's mind was conjuring up every object and person he'd never see again. His parents. His siblings. His guitar…God, his guitar! How the hell could he live knowing that the music he loved wouldn't be invented for another twenty years? Playing guitar at forty, if he lived until then! He pressed the heels of his hands into his eye sockets, struggling not to cry. The flux capacitor was ruined…the windows smashed by the storm. Even if they did by some miracle manage to repair the damned thing, who would know if the time circuits worked? Would he be pushed into 1985, or 1885? Or worse? Time was endless, it was a constantly shifting line.

Marty felt Emmett's hand on his shoulder. "I..look, future boy. You said I invented this thing right? Who's to say I can't fix it?" Emmett said, trying to placate his friend. The sailors were busy cleaning up the deck after the storm, but the captain was looking at them with an unusual expression on his face. He hadn't the slightest idea what they were talking about, but it definitely seemed bigger than they were letting on.

"Doc, you invented this when you had… I don't know. Experience, hell, your frickin' doctorate. You haven't even gone to school yet." Marty said miserably. Emmett squatted in front of him.

"At the very least, I can try." Emmett replied, smiling. "There's nothing my uncle can't do, I'm sure if we bring him this then he'll be able to fix it. Just…worry about getting into the Wehrmacht. Don't worry about the ti…the machine." He was lucky he'd caught that word in his throat. He could feel the eyes of the captain on him. Emmett stood and adjusted the canvas over the DeLorean, biting his lip. Now there was even more pressure on him to perform. He wasn't making a simple adjustment now, he was repairing a badly damaged machine. He ran his hand over the DeLorean under the canvas, as if reassuring the car.

He saw Marty stand and head below deck. Future boy didn't think he could do it…that was plain as the nose on his face.

Marty lay on his back, looking up at the ceiling. So, if he was truly stuck here...at least he would have Elvis in a few years. That was something to look forward to. He would have Emmett as well. He allowed a small smile at the thought. That kiss he'd been thinking about for the past week had jolted his system. He was going back in time to fix these feelings, to eliminate it so he could resume a platonic relationship with Doc in the future. With the gay gone he could go back to Jennifer and act as if nothing had ever happened.

The thing was, would preventing himself from kissing his mother actually fix anything? He had to be sure that was the crux of it, that the very moment his lips touched Lorraine's was the exact moment he had turned from women. Or maybe it had affected him in the womb later? It was a logical ball of yarn he had to unravel in his head. The feelings for Emmett were pleasant, not horrifying and frightening like he'd imagined them to be. This made it all the harder to digest. If he was repulsed by the idea, then fixing it would be easy. It would show him that the feelings were just a wrinkle in time, and not something that had been latent.

God, what was wrong with him?

He closed his eyes and ran his hands over his face. Wehrmacht. Wehrmacht. He had to think about joining the Nazis, and making it look real. Hell, it would have to be real for a short amount of time. That thought was terrifying in itself. Jesus, what if they shot Emmett after they boosted the repaired car back from the Nazis? He shuddered. No, he would do all he could to prevent that from happening. Doc was his best friend. The spry old man would not pay for his mistakes. Besides, the thought of not knowing Doc in the future was something he was not willing to spend time thinking about. If Doc died here, then the time machine would never be invented, and his life would fizzle back into the horrible normality it had been. His mother's alcoholism, his father's pathetic attitude, Biff pushing them around. He'd already inadvertently fixed that.

Marty lifted his head when he heard steps coming down the stairs. Emmett waived plaintively at him and sat on his own cot across from Marty. "I thought we could work on your German. So you know, you're not completely out of the water when they talk to you. The chances of you finding a German that speaks a lick of English is slim." He said. "I speak enough to get by, my family…we're big believers in raising bilingual children."

Marty sat up, ruffling his hair and looking tiredly at his friend. "Alright." He sighed. "Just go slow. I barely passed first semester Spanish, let alone German."

Three hours later and Marty's brain felt well and truly fried. The only things he'd learned were how to say his own name, count to twenty, 'I want to join the Wehrmacht' and where the bathroom was. Emmett was extremely proud of him, but Marty was sensing the boy was getting frustrated when they started getting to more complicated matters, like asking about being an assistant to the labs so he could rejoin Emmett.

"The key to any language is thinking in it. You're thinking in English. Think in Deutsch!" Emmett said in exasperation. "Even if it's nonsense, just think in Deutsch. Don't think in English."

"I don't know what the hell you mean think in Deutsch!" Marty shouted in frustration. "We've spent three and a half hours at this, can we stop? I'm fried. I can't think anymore, in English or German! Fuck!" he flopped back onto the bed, growling and clutching his scalp. "I'm sorry, Doc, I'm sorry. I just…I need a break. This is worse than trigonometry."

Emmett nodded reluctantly. "You just…need to learn it." He mumbled, playing with his hands. Marty sat up and sighed, stopping Emmett's fingers and holding them in his own. He looked into the other boy's eyes.

"I'm sorry for yelling at you." He said softly. He stroked his fingers over Emmett's palm, looking at him intently. He saw Emmett color and nod, and his mind went back to the kiss. It had been over a week, and his feelings hadn't changed one bit for Emmett Brown. Perhaps it would be alright to indulge in this reality, to get it out of his system before he changed it all in 1955. He took in a deep breath and got up to sit next to Emmett.

"Um…we could go up and ask the captain where we are if you wanted?" the nerdy looking boy said, his cheeks still pink.

Marty didn't say anything. He held Emmett's hand, leaned in, and kissed him. He closed his eyes, their lips touching. Both of them were conscious, both of them nervous as hell. Emmett didn't seem to be resisting. His eyes were wide open and he looked completely shocked out of his mind that Marty had kissed him. The teenager drew back, causing Marty to open his eyes. "Was it alright?" Marty asked gently, edging closer. When he looked at Doc like this, he wanted him. This was just another pocket of time that would be fixed and forgotten when he was in 1955. He could do anything here.

Marty leaned in again and kissed Emmett, pressing the other boy against the wall of the ship. He moved to straddle the other boy's hips. Emmett paused, his body tense, then opened his mouth and deepened the kiss. Marty ground his hips against Emmett's, feeling the other boy nervously put his arms around his neck. Why did this feel so goddamn good? They were both hard, both wanting, though he sensed Emmett was a bit nervous about the whole thing. He started to feel some resistance to the rough kisses, and Emmett jerked his hips away when Marty slid his hand between the young scientist's legs. " I never knew you were gay…is everything ok?" Marty said as he pulled his mouth away from Emmett's, looking into his bright eyes. Maybe trying to touch him too soon was a mistake.

"I…didn't really know either…" Emmett said, swallowing nervously. "I…uh…I've never done anything like this. I'd really like it if you got off of me now." He put his hands to Marty's shoulders and gently pushed him off. "Keep, uh, keep memorizing what I told you." he added, beating a hasty retreat up the stairs. Marty was about to go after him, but eventually just swore and flopped down onto the bed.


	12. Everything In It's Place

The minute they landed in Germany, Marty felt like he had a knife ripping through his guts. Not only was it the dregs of his sea sickness, but he was bouncing off the nervousness of the entire crew. They docked and a man in a stiff black uniform approached them, a stern expression on his face. He was holding a clipboard, and looked rather irritated that they'd dare sully his clean, orderly dock with their presence. Marty risked looking around the port. There were soldiers everywhere, stony faced, looking as symmetrical as origami. They had every hair, every muscle in its place and relaxed. Marty had the impression that they were like lions. Still, but they could explode into action at any moment. The port town beyond the iron curtain of the Nazi security force looked relatively benign and normal, very busy with everything from proletariats to soldiers.

The Captain cleared his throat. "I'll take care of this. Keep your mouths shut and don't speak until spoken to." He said in a low voice to Marty and Emmett. Marty nodded, the man in front of them was mousy faced but there were fangs behind those pursed lips. He was sure of it. The captain exchanged terse words with the presumed dock manager, who immediately spied the large canvas covered time machine and pointed his pen to it. The captain answered in a rather blasé tone. He was obviously trying to downplay the worth of it. The dock manager answered back in a clipped, sharp tone.

Marty was sure they were sunk. He quietly closed his eyes when he heard the canvas being drawn back. The dock manager looked at the small mass of broken glass and shrugged, content to let the matter go. He had no idea what the machine was, so it must be what the captain told him. If the man wasn't honest he knew he risked jailing for trespassing as well as lying to a Nazi official.

Emmett could translate every word. The dock manager was curious about their 'luggage' but had instantly gave way the moment the captain had told him they were here to get the machine repaired. Of course the captain had thrown in some not-too-untrue tidbits fawning about German auto manufacture. Emmett brushed his fingers against Marty's thigh. They were going to be alright. His stomach nearly bottomed out when the dock manager's narrow black eyes focused on him and asked for his identification. Good lord. Here was the crux of it. Emmett pawed his pants and pulled out his passport, handing it shakily to the dock manager. The man thanked him and told him he could pick up his passport when he left the country, and would receive a temporary one in the meanwhile allowing him minimal clearance to automobile repair services.

He then asked why they came all that way to fix such an odd looking automobile. Emmett quickly replied it was for a special project, and he'd made the machine himself which wasn't entirely a lie according to Marty. He just hadn't made it yet in this time frame. The dock manager seemed satisfied with the answer, muttering something about the ugliness of the DeLorean. Emmett's stomach flipped when the manager turned to Marty and held his hand out for an ID.

"Uh…what's he want?" Marty leaned in close and asked him nervously.

"Your ID…" Emmett trailed off, his voice dying in his throat when the manager's eyes furrowed.

Marty pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and flipped it open, pulling out his driver's license. He handed it to the dock manager, who was clearly not used to the odd format. He took down Marty's name and sealed their identifications in an envelope, stripping the perforated slips from his clipboard. He handed them to both Marty and Emmett, giving them a strict order to head to the Immigration and Visitation Offices in the port town and give the man there their slips in order to receive temporary identification. If they lost these slips they could be jailed for trespassing and/or espionage without notice, and without the consult of a lawyer or foreign emissary.

Their luggage would be held here at the dock until they came back with proper ID. Marty didn't want to leave the time machine, and he visibly bristled when dock workers came aboard to try and move the thing. But the meaningful tug from Emmett on his arm meant he couldn't argue. He had to snap to and move. "I feel like Bond." He muttered to Emmett, adrenaline and excitement roiling in his gut.

When they were safely between the scrutinizing eyes of the Sturmbateilung keeping watch over the docks, Emmett breathed a sigh of relief. "I thought we weren't going to make it there for a moment." He said softly to Marty, smiling at him. Marty rubbed the back of his neck, glancing back at the tan-uniformed men guarding the dock.

"Yeah, I wouldn't want to get on their bad sides. They look like they could run security at a metal concert." Marty said.

"That's the Sturmbateilung. They're the stiff arm of the military…sort of like policemen but with the added factor of being soldiers. I don't know what sort of concert steel plays, but if it has anything to do with taking down an enemy as quickly and messily as possible…definitely." Emmett said, pulling Marty along the street. They were being stared at like they had lobsters growing out of their backs. As Americans they were complete oddities here, to be gotten out of the country as quickly as possible. Germany only allowed tourism under very strict circumstances, and showing up out of nowhere was bound to ruffle a few beaurocratic feathers.

Marty nodded. "They have like a shorter name or something?" he asked.

"The SA. If you think they're bad, get on the wrong side of the SS." Emmett replied, his eyes scanning for the Immigration Offices. They weren't clearly labeled, and all the Reich offices were in that odd spidery, gothic font that was very hard to read when it wasn't one's first language.

Marty cleared his throat, rubbing down his hair with a hand. He had no idea where Emmett was taking him, but he knew he couldn't be left behind. He followed his friend closely, letting his eyes wander. It looked like a cheerful little town…it even had a train station that had a cloud of coal dust surrounding the iron behemoth resting in its berth. Even the Nazi flags hanging from some of the more official-looking buildings looked more patriotic than menacing. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad.

He should have known better when he saw the man behind the main desk at the Immigration Offices. He snapped his fingers at the two teenagers and waggled them impatiently for the paper slips. Marty and Emmett thrust theirs at him, which he took and examined closely. Since they were signed and stamped he was satisfied. He took them each to the side, took their pictures, and issued them both laminated temporary IDs. Both the boys had the shared opinion that they were being processed similar to criminals. But that was the Nazi way. They preferred to be prepared for criminal conduct rather than get caught with their pants down.

Emmett wanted to go back and get the time machine, but it seemed they weren't going anywhere for a while. They had to wait at the immigration office until their papers had been approved by a much higher office, then returned. They were given small chairs to sit in until the call came through that they could roam about, and even then they were on a time limit.

"He said we can stay two weeks." Emmett said. "That means we need to find some way to tow your automobile to Munich and reach my grand uncle…and get it fixed, all in two weeks." He began nervously chewing his nails. "It can't be done. We have to apply to stay longer."

"And how frickin' long is that going to take?" Marty said, exasperated. They'd been messing around here nearly an hour and a half! He couldn't take the beaurocracy, it was choking him!

"As long as they want." Emmett said nervously. "We need to hire a car to tow it to Munich, and contact my grand uncle there. We don't even know if he'll see us…he's very busy."

"He might be busy but this is a matter of life and death. Doc you told me….your older self told me that if I was born in 1985 and die earlier…then the entire structure of time will unfold. We'll all die." Marty said. "Everyone."

Emmett looked up at the immigration manager, who had been smoking the last twenty minutes while he waited for their approval. "It's ok. Everything will be ok." He said, but his voice sounded unconvincing even to his own ears.

Another hour, and they were approved to stay in the country two weeks. Emmett pointed out that this would at least buy them some time to get to Munich and contact the head offices there rather than waiting for phone calls…wherever this was. Marty agreed, they had to be on the move as fast as possible. A quick search around the area with Emmett's superior German skills earned them a tow truck, with the promise to turn it in at the company's Munich office within twenty four hours or it would be reported stolen.

"Great, another time crunch." Marty grumbled.

"Time cant' be compressed, it's a logical fallibility." Emmett said happily.

"So Einie, we know Marty's year and location from the note we found in the mailbox." Doc said, rubbing his chin as he stared at the chart he'd drawn out. "It seems the time circuits dropped him in the middle of the second world war instead of 1955, a much more safe time to be messing around in." he bit the end of the pencil he had in his hand, thinking. "We can't send anything back. So we either have to pray and hope for the best or do something completely outside of the realm of known science." He looked at the shepherd, who lowered his ears.

"I don't like the options either." Doc plunked himself down in a chair he hadn't remembered being there before. Come to think of it, his garage was so orderly now. Much easier to plan with the blackboard in front of everything…hadn't it always been this way? Of course it had been. He'd always organized it like this, from some deep rooted sense of needing things orderly. "Well…I…no, that won't work." He frowned, letting his teeth sink into the eraser. "Einie give me something!" he said in an exasperated tone to the dog.

Einstein yawned and laid down, flicking his ears up and gazing boredly at the chalkboard.

"Some kind of lab assistant you are." Doc mumbled.


	13. Pull Over Doc

Marty sighed and looked at the truck. It had been a long day, a very long day of driving. He'd had to relinquish the driver's seat to Emmett, who knew how to drive a stick shift. The bench seats meant that he could at least sit close to Emmett, since his mind hadn't left the kiss on the ship. Even if this was a pocket of time that could be relatively forgotten for him, what about Doc? Would Doc be changed when he returned? Would all this time together ruin what made Doc himself? He watched the teenager drive, concern knitted into Emmett's features. He was worried about making the two week deadline, about Marty joining the foreign legions, about finding his uncle. Perhaps about what had happened on the ship itself? Their short-lived fumbling in the below decks?

"Listen…Doc.." Marty bit his lip. "I want to talk to you about what went on in the ship." He saw Emmett stiffen slightly. "You did nothing wrong. I went a bit too fast and…you're not some girl at the prom. I…I had no right. I'm sorry."

Emmett had his eyes locked on the road, his fingers stroking the thin steering wheel for a moment. He took a deep breath in and looked over at Marty, his large brown eyes searching the time traveler's face. "I liked it. You just scared me." He said quietly, turning his attention back to the road. Marty hesitantly put his fingers on Emmett's knee, stroking up and down the slender thigh. Emmett parted his legs slowly, offering his leg to be stroked. Marty paused and slid his hand upward, hearing a small gasp come from the other boy.

"I haven't even touched you yet." Marty purred in amusement, grabbing his seat when Emmett steered them gently off the road and put the car in park, shutting off the engine. The time machine slowly rolled to a stop on the trailer behind them. "Doc?" Emmett looked like he wanted to do something, and was working up the nerve to do it. He was surprised when Emmett slid over to the passenger side of the vehicle, licking his lips nervously. Even more surprised when Emmett pushed his lips against his, wrapped his arms around his neck, and sat in his lap.

Marty allowed himself to sink into the kiss, closing his eyes and settling his fingers on Emmett's hips. He held the boy against his body, starting to move his hips. Emmett whimpered against Marty's lips, awkwardly shifting back against him. It was so dangerous to be doing this, so damned dangerous. A patrol could come down the road at any moment, and that meant jailing for indecency in public. Worse, perhaps, if they caught them doing anything worse than touching. If the way Marty's hands were headed was any indication, it would be the latter. Emmett squeaked, feeling squeezing hands on his rear. "Come on." Marty whispered against his lips, smiling. Those large, deep brown eyes were focused on him, waiting, wanting. Marty couldn't wait to show him, even though he'd not say they were both inexperienced. Marty had no idea what to do with a boy, but he was sure as hell going to try. Damn the future, the past.

Marty nuzzled Emmett off of him and pulled him into the storage area of the van. He let go of him, looking at the flat steel bed. There had to be something around here…he opened up a storage bin and pulled out blankets. They were rough, ugly green things used to keep machinery and such from damaging itself on the bed of the van…but they would do. He spread one out on the bottom of the van, feeling Emmett's wanting, yet nervous gaze on him. Marty looked up. Doc looked scared. He pulled another sheet over and went to his friend, kissing him and pulling him against his body. "Listen, you can tell me to stop at any time, alright?" he said softly. "Anytime, you just say the word Doc and my hands are off."

"…Alright." Emmett whispered against him, feeling Marty's hands stroke over his ears and around his neck. They kissed again, this time more passionately. Marty gently ran the tip of his tongue across Emmett's lips, encouraging him to open them. Emmett did so, letting Marty's tongue in to stroke and play with his own. Their bodies were on fire, it felt so good to press against one another…Marty needed more. He stepped back a moment and pulled his shirt over his head, awkwardly because of the way he had to half-bend in the van's low ceiling space. He knelt, throwing the shirt away and kissing Emmett's stomach. He was frightened that Emmett would tell him to stop, or ask what he was doing.

Hell, he didn't even know what he was doing; he was acting on instinct and the few, fading memories of doing things with Jennifer. He could barely remember her now; she was fading as nothing but a friend from his mind. Marty slid his hands under Emmett's shirt, encouraging him to take it off.

Emmett complied and knelt with him, locking their lips together again. Skin against skin, chest against chest, their bare arms exploring each other's bodies, flashes of pale skin against light from the windshield. Marty laid Emmett down on his back on the felt blankets, kissing him a bit more roughly, their hips meeting and grinding against one another.

Little gasps and moans fell from Emmett's lips and he tilted his head back, large eyes wide. It was too intense, he couldn't take the rough feeling of his member being squeezed between their bodies. He arched his back, feeling Marty's lips trailing down his neck and chest. It felt so good, perspiration breaking out on both their backs from the heat and friction. Marty sat up in the low light, letting Emmett put shaking hands on his hips.

He had no idea to proceed from here.

Girls…he knew what to do with girls. Lick them, spread them open, put on a condom and…well, it was self explanatory. Here he hadn't the slightest idea to do with the hot, hard, wide-eyed teenager below him. What now? Suggest they just go back and start driving again, leaving them both unsatisfied?

Emmett blinked dark eyelids, one hand sliding off of Marty's hip to the button on his jeans. Marty grasped his hand. "Are you sure you want to do this, Doc?" he asked quietly, breaking the hot, heady silence that had reigned over them. It made this all seem real, the sound of voices in the cabin.

"I want to." Emmett said in a soft voice, and Marty let go of his hand.

A swift knock on the side of the van turned the mood from exploratory and sexual to cold. A voice called to them from outside the vehicle, and Emmett struggled out from beneath him so fast Marty was still trying to figure out what was going on while his companion pulled on his shirt. Emmett swore under his breath, fingers flying over buttons. Marty scrambled around for his t-shirt, pulling it over his head. "We were bedding down for the night. No one did anything to anyone." Emmett told him frantically. They were lucky their hair was mussed, it would add to the story. It was getting late in the day, perhaps they could pull the lie off.

Emmett opened the driver's side door and climbed out, attempting to look sleepy. Thankfully it wasn't a patrol, just a good Samaritan asking them if they had car trouble. It certainly looked that way from the haphazard fashion they were parked on the side of the road in…they needed to get moving. Emmett thanked the man for his concern but assured him he was just tired from driving and needed to sleep in the back. Marty felt a bit grateful that he wasn't mentioned at all, and took it as a cue to stay in the back where he wouldn't be seen.

But the mood was broken.

When Emmett came back, he wordlessly slid between the two felt blankets and cuddled down. "We should…eh…get some rest. It's going to be even more driving tomorrow." He said, clearing his throat. Marty tried not to let his disappointment show. He ran his fingers through his light brown hair and settled down beside Emmett. He put his arm around the boy's waist and held him close. It would be enough to just cuddle him tonight, breathe in his scent.

Think about what he was doing.

Even when Emmett's snores hit his ears, Marty's brain was still furiously trying to figure out what he would do once he got back to his time. Perhaps just getting it out of his system would be enough, maybe he shouldn't chance fate going back to 1955. But he had to, didn't he? To stop these feelings he had for a man that, in his own time, was almost fifty years his senior?

Come to think of it, what the hell was he doing to Doc?

Doctor Emmett Brown awoke with a splitting headache, lifting his head from his desk with a slow hiss of breath. It felt like someone had taken a sledgehammer to his cortex. Marty…he blinked. Wait a moment. He remembered something about Marty…something about his youth. Christ, Marty was making memories with him! He sorted through the new, yet old information. What he could remember of it. Fumblings in the back of a van…the back of a van? What?

Marty was taking the time machine to Germany, at the very least he knew that. He must be trying to repair it, the boy was sharp…his uncle! Of course, the inventor of the rocket! He smiled. Marty was going to be alright, he knew it! The boy was resourceful and sharp as a tack, he should have expected he would find out about von Braun. But he had memories of the boy touching him now, making his body burn. It was so strange to think of his companion like that, he looked at Einstein, disturbed by his master's shifting. Marty was back in the second world war, molesting his younger self. And he liked it. By Edison from the memories all he wanted was to get Marty naked and in a bed somewhere.

He grabbed the remnants of his hair in his hands, covering his wrinkled eyes. No, no no no. Marty was messing things up. Who knew what else the boy was fucking with? He looked at Einstein again. "Please tell me you were always a German Shepherd, and I'm not going insane." He grumbled at the dog. Was his garage always this messy? It was clean the other day, he swore it! But he remembered how all the clutter got there again. Conflicting memories were starting to hurt his head…he felt wetness on his upper lip and licked it, tasting coppery blood on his tongue.

He knew what was happening. The same thing that happened in 1955 after Marty had left him the first time. His brain was hemorrhaging, trying to accommodate both time streams without confusing itself. That explained the headaches, the pressure in his skull…the nosebleeds. He felt sleepy, but knew better than to dare fall asleep. That would be the most dangerous thing he could do at this point.

Tesla…was he going to die before Marty ever got back to this time?


	14. Brush Up on Your German

Marty groaned when he felt morning slice through the windshield of the van and hit his eyelids. He rolled over and pressed his cheek against the thin, rough blankets lining the floor of the van. He stank like motor oil and ungalvanized steel, rust and sweat from grinding against Emmett. He looked down at the other boy, curled up on the floor, breathing softly. If Marty looked closely, he could see Doc there…the smooth skin that, in his time, was wrinkled. The wild nut brown hair that would turn stark white, and the slender body that would turn wiry and tough. Would he still want to make love to him in his own time? Marty sighed and let his hand trail down to push Emmett's hair back from his forehead. He leaned down and was about to kiss Emmett's forehead, but soft arms wrapped around his neck and lips met lips.

"Not shy anymore, eh Doc?" Marty asked quietly.

The other boy didn't respond. He was running his fingers over Marty's lips and chin, his jaw. They kissed again before Marty gently pulled away. "We need to get moving." He said quietly. He saw Emmett nod and sit up, pulling his shirt and pants on while his companion went outside to see how the time machine had fared during the night. The shattered window and flux compacitor were still the main sources of heartache for Marty. He sighed and idly brushed a spider away from trying to knit the broken window together. "How far till Munich?" he called back inside the van.

He saw Emmett's scruffy head poke out. "I think we're roughly two hours off. We'll have to check in…and that's where we part. You have to tell the gate guards you want to join the Wehrmacht, I'll be taken to my uncle with the time machine." He said nervously.

Marty had that feeling again, the feeling of his stomach dropping down to his groin. Here was the crux of it. He had to face things alone. He cleared his throat and let Emmett drive the rest of the way, but he had noticed a change in his companion. There was no affectionate warmth. He was cold, professional, perhaps a little frightened. Marty was terrified. He wanted Emmett's hand on his knee, a kiss, something to reassure him he wasn't about to go to the guillotine. But that was unwise and he knew it. He stared at the city in front of them get closer and closer.

There was a pride to Munich that he couldn't really comprehend. Like the pride of the football players that had stuffed the nerdy kids in lockers at school. Ramrod backs, eyes hard with conviction. Utterly convinced what they were doing was right. Was it so wrong to think like that?

By the time they reached the front gates, Marty's hands were slick with sweat. There were two small guard outposts near the gate, guarded by men in black uniforms with rifles. There it was again, the pride. Marty saw it as they pulled up the car. The guard peered down a straight nose at him like he was a sewer rat. His eyes were unreadable, his muscles taut. Ready to defend. Marty shrank back in his seat unconsciously. The city loomed above him, a slight air of friendliness about it, the old Bavarian hospitality. The red flags that flicked and teased in the wind reminded him exactly where he was. This was a one way ticket unless he was extremely careful.

Marty heard the guard ask Emmett for their temporary IDs. Emmett nudged him to give over his, and Marty did so with shaking hands. The guard relaxed slightly, and asked them a question. Emmett responded in perfect german, and Marty could pick out words that sounded like English. Science project, for one. He caught the word 'SA' and saw the guard's green eyes flick up to him. He froze like a rabbit. What were the words that Emmett had wanted him to say? Where were they? They were trapped in his brain somewhere, frozen under images of his family and random thoughts.

Until his ears caught barely whispered words. Emmett. Feeding him the lines. He stumbled over the words, making the guard frown slightly at his horrific pronunciation. He saw a small line of sweat run down the side of Emmett's skull. But then the guard laughed and handed back their IDs, chattering in German to Emmett.

"He says you need to work on your German if you want to fight for the Reich. He says that I'm supposed to go to Goringestrasser. You're supposed to go to the recruitment offices, on the other side of town. I have to take the car." Emmett said quietly, so quietly that Marty could barely hear him. The guard waved them through, and Marty instinctively grabbed Emmett's thigh.

"I can't." he squeaked.

"You have to, if you want to stay here. My uncle will protect me but he can't protect you, and there are laws here Future Boy." Emmett said softly, slowly stroking his fingers over Marty's hand, then removing it from his leg. They had to stop at several lights, to let SA and SS through, pedestrians, and something that Emmett simply called the 'jugend'. Children, but in uniform. Emmett assured him they weren't used for combat. "They're more of a….well….think Boy Scouts. There's even a woman's division for girls. They learn basic survival, how to throw a knife and hunt. Things like that." Emmett explained as he pulled over the car. "Alright, here's a map. You've got to find the recruitment offices. If anyone stops you, just show them the ID that the offices gave us. It won't work forever, but the SA is a surefire way to get a permanent one. I don't know how long it's going to take to repair your time machine."

Marty felt the lump in his throat grow bigger.

"Emmett…please…" he said softly.

He saw the boy look over at him, then risk pecking him on the lips. "You're going to do fine. The SA is very stern but you'll be ok. You're going to have to fix that horrible future hair. You look like a scruffhead." He joked, smiling and ruffling Marty's hair. "Now, chin up. You're in the Reich. Quit treating it like some sort of bear, it's not bad. Try and get posted in Weapons Development, that's likely where they're going to put this thing since they don't know what it is."

Then Marty was staring at Emmett driving down the road, feeling very out of place in a crowded sidewalk, a flag flying above his head. He didn't know how to ask for directions. He blindly stopped a man in black uniform. "Erm….eh…SA?" he asked. "Recruit?" He wasn't sure if the word was close in German, but it seemed close enough.

"Ah. Jagerstrasser. Links bis Richtigstrasser, rechts, und links. Es ist rechts. Ja?" the man said good naturedly.

"Erm…yeah." Marty said blankly as the man smiled at him stiffly and walked away.

The hell did rechts mean?

Doc woke slowly. He lifted his head off of his….cold….hard pillow. The floor? How had he ended up on the floor? He remembered trying to find a way to communicate with Marty from the future. His cheek was sticky, his eyes were so unfocused. He groaned and sat up, lifting his wrinkled hand to his cheek and drawing away the stickiness. He rubbed it between his fingers as his brain struggled to catch up. Blood.

He looked down at the floor. Blood.

His nose had been bleeding heavily, there were smears of it all over the floor….like he'd been convulsing. "Edison's mustache…" he breathed. His brain was hemorrhaging to try and get all the extra information. "Einie?" he called. No response. Even the customary amount of dog food on the floor from his rather overenthusiastic invention was gone. Come to think of it, where was the feeder?

Had he ever made one?

Come to think of it, who was Einie?


	15. Sharks and Doctors

Marty had been wandering around for hours in Munich. It seemed like days. He'd almost been run over twice, once by a car that had enough weight behind it to turn him into road pizza, and a second time by a member of the mounted police. The horse had bit him nastily when he'd bumped into it, and a bruise was flowering on his shoulder. He rubbed it and hissed as he looked at the office across the street. He'd finally found someone who spoke English in a hotel, and they'd directed him here. The place was on Jagerstrasser like the first man had said, but Marty was now of the firm opinion that whomever wrote the street signs in the jagged, confusing gothic font put gang taggers to absolute shame as far as confusion. He pulled on the collar of his shirt to look at the bruise, wincing. He could see tooth outlines!

"I wonder if it's illegal to sock a horse in the face…" he grumbled, rearranging the shirt gingerly over his injury. He waited until there was a gap in the traffic, then hurried across the street and into the recruitment office. To his embarrassment, he wasn't the only one. Two other boys were sitting in stiff-backed wooden chairs, looking just as nervous. The room was the size of a postage stamp, Marty had seen apartments that were bigger. There were only a few footsteps between the door and the desk, and beyond that was a rather clinical-looking room he had to assume was for medical checkups. The man at the desk was reading a book boredly, giving a soft sigh every now and then as if simply scanning the words on the page was exhausting.

Marty looked from the desk man to the other boys. No one seemed to be moving. Everyone was waiting…and scared. He could see it on their faces. He nervously went up to the front desk. "Erm…excuse me?" he asked, praying his voice wouldn't crack like some fifteen year old nerd at a science convention. The man ignored him, turning a page. "Sir?" Marty pressed. "I'm…uh….here to join. What's the word…uh…te…teilnehman?" he ventured.

The man lifted his chin ever so slightly, his eyes rolling up to look at Marty. "I do speak English, boy." He said, a bit impatiently. "You'll have to wait like everyone else. Herr Barbie is on another tear, he's looking for a new adjutant."

"What happened to the last one?" Marty asked.

"Dead, more than likely." The man said without missing a beat, turning a page as if Marty had just inquired about the weather. "Take a seat. When he's done reaming the lieutenant he'll probably come harass us. Keep respectful and don't lose your temper. He loves that." He returned to ignoring Marty with another pronounced sigh. Marty stood there a moment, his eyes going to the clinic room. He heard voices, and a soft bang like someone hitting a table, but there was no other noise. He sank down into a chair beside a sandy-haired recruit, wincing when he banged his shoulder on the back of the chair. "Hey, how's it going?" he tried to strike up conversation, but the two recruits simply looked at him, then went back to staring into empty space. "Jeez…live crowd." Marty mumbled.

An hour passed. Then two. Marty was starting to envy the man at the desk with his book. "You don't have anything else to read?" Marty asked. The man didn't look at him. "Pamphlets, magazines….back of a shampoo bottle…anything?" the teenager said desperately. "Listen, these two statues you got here might be able to sit here and meditate but I'm going to go crazy."

The man gave him a look. "Sit down and shut up." He grumbled, returning to his book.

Marty sank back into the chair with a sigh. He looked at the recruit next to him and waved his hand in front of his face. The other teenager gave him a perturbed look but didn't say anything. "You two are going to be real amusing to work with I can already tell. Listen, since I don't know your names I'm going to give you some. How about you're Jerry and he's….he looks like a Bob." He tried smiling.

'Jerry' gave him one of his patented annoyed looks, oblivious to his new name.

"That's Fredrik Streicher and Jurgen Streicher. They're brothers." The man at the desk grunted.

"No kidding? Stone-faced thing runs in the family?" Marty asked, a bit cheered he was getting some sort of conversation.

The man at the desk gave a soft growl of annoyance. "I wish it ran in yours."

"My name's McFly. Marty." Marty said.

"Fascinating. Now Herr Marty if you would start emulating Herrs Streicher I would be extremely ingratiated to you." The man grumbled.

Marty was about to open his mouth again when he heard the voices getting louder, obviously exited their office and headed toward them. Fredrik and Jurgen straightened up even further beside him, and for once Marty tried to emulate them. He heard the desk man give a snort of derision, then two men stepped through the door. One was shorter than the other, dressed in a suit, balding….roughly mid to late fifties. He had a nervous look on his face and had his attention glued to the man beside him. If Marty ever had to give an example of what a soldier looked like, all he had to do was look at the balding man's companion.

The man was tall, over six feet, with deep brown hair combed back neatly. His face was slightly mousy, with a rounded chin, slender lips, and a nose straight as an arrow. His eyebrows were tilted up toward the middle of his forehead in a perpetual 'puppy' look, but the large brown eyes housed in bruised sockets were anything but puppy-like. They were hard as granite, with something lurking behind them that would make Freddy Kruger piss himself. He had his hands behind his back, his lips curled in a soft sneer, exposing the beginnings of white teeth.

'Like some goddamn shark.' Marty thought to himself as the balding man escorted the taller over to the recruits.

Marty saw the tall man's eyes rake over the blond boy and his brother. The scary…something in his eyes only seemed to glow brighter when they set upon him. Marty shuddered unconsciously, and out of the corner of his eye saw the desk man eye him piteously. Why? Why was the shithead just now feeling sorry for him. The tall man put a hand under Marty's chin so fast the teenager didn't have the presence of mind to jerk backward.

"Dieses hier." The tall man purred in a deep, velvety voice that Marty would have found attractive if he wasn't so scared of his eyes. He released Marty's chin and grinned, showing rows of white teeth. "Ich werde ihn."

He looked to the desk man for help pleadingly, but the man was ignoring him again!

The balding man said something appeasing, obviously trying to steer the shark-like creature away from Marty. Marty felt grateful, he didn't want to be touched by that man again. He could swear from the way the man was inhaling that he was…smelling him?

"Dieses. Hier." The tall man repeated, but there was ice in his voice and his expression now. The balding man withered.

Marty looked at the desk jockey, who said something in a quite deprecating tone to the tall beast standing in front of Marty. The tall man laughed, unpleasantly, something Marty would imagine in a nuthouse.

"No German? Well what a pity. We'll have to fix that." The man smirked. He squatted in front of Marty, who had the distinct impression he was being talked down to. "Tell me boy. Do you know who you're speaking to, hm?" the man said amusedly.

"Uh….the…man…in….charge…?" Marty ventured slowly. He was rewarded with another off-putting grin.

"Richtig. Correct. My name is Klaus Barbie, leader of the secret police." The shark introduced himself, putting a piano-fingered hand on his chest.

"Uh…Marty McFly…guitarist." Marty said weakly. Klaus straightened up and chuckled, looking at the balding man.

"Herr Strusel seems to think it's funny to bring me a musician." Klaus grinned and his eyes slid toward the man who had escorted him. Marty wouldn't really have been surprised if he lunged forward and grabbed the balding man's multiple chins in his teeth.

The balding man protested weakly and slid away under Barbie's glance, scuttling into the back again. "How would you like to skip being in the army, and join me as a lieutenant? Honestly, asking you is just a formality, as soon as you stepped through that door you were mine." Klaus purred.

"Uh…ok…but… I'm not a soldier. And I was supposed to be in the SA." Marty said, but felt further protests die in his throat.

"Take a moment to sign the contract and your orders with Herr Kesler at the desk….then come to the police station. You can't miss it, it's exactly seven buildings down and across the road from this recruitment office." Klaus Barbie said, standing and heading out the door without so much as a goodbye.

"Congrats, Adjutant." The desk man said sourly. "Need a new pair of trousers? I would, if I were in your position."

Marty got shakily off the chair. The two other recruits were staring at him like he'd sprouted horns and breasts, terrified. He approached the desk and Kesler shoved papers at him. "Sign." He grunted, shoving a pen along with the papers towards Marty. Marty paused over the documents. Something about the name Klaus Barbie was putting up little red flags in his head. Hadn't Emmett wanted him to avoid him…?

"What if I don't want to…" he said, setting the pen down.

Kesler looked up. "When Klaus Barbie said he owned you, he was right. He has the right to take any man out of the military to be his adjutant. The last adjutant was a sniper, the one before that was an SA brute. Both of them disappeared within a month of going to work for him, and anyone investigating was either bribed or disappeared as well. I'd suggest you sign those papers, I don't think beaurocracy is going to stop him from dragging you to the station." The man said sourly. "And know that no man in the Reich envies you, even if it does come with a big fancy pay grade. God knows why he chose YOU, you haven't been in the military 24 hours yet."

Marty felt sick. "Did he kill them?"

"Jury's out on that." Kesler said. "One of them was found in the Elbe with half his face torn off. Must've been strangled, but Christ knows trying to pin anything to Klaus Barbie is like trying to pull your balls over your head. Now sign the papers and get out of my hair."

"But I didn't sign anything! How am I already in the military when all I did was sit in that chair there?" Marty demanded. Anything to prevent going with Barbie.

"Kid, the truth of it is if you raised a huge fuss, and dug in your heels, called the Foreign Office and swore on the Holy Bible you didn't sign anything and might have been here to get me a goddamn coffee…Klaus isn't going to care. He's going to take you, either as a willing kid with a uniform and a paycheck, or his next sewing project. I went to his office once and it was enough of a nightmare to put me on pills. But you know, no one cares, and who are you going to tell? The police?" Kesler snorted.

"Well….what about the Chancellor? Doesn't he control him?"

"We have a saying in the Reich. Struggle is the father of all things. I'd suggest you keep your irish trap shut, sign those papers, and get the hell out of my office before I call Klaus Barbie to collect you personally. And he's not going to like that." Kesler said coldly.

Marty signed the papers and pushed them back toward the sour man meekly. "Great. Now get out of my face. You're Klaus Barbie's problem." Kesler cracked his book again, and that was that. Marty was left to try and figure out why his stomach hurt and he felt dizzy.

Emmett was waved through what seemed like the twelfth or thirteenth set of doors. He didn't know, he'd lost count after the first four. Twisting, turning, gently guiding the van deeper and deeper into the facility. When he'd shown up at the Science Offices they'd promptly given him an armed escort to the largest factory-like building Emmett have ever seen, and told him to go to floor 3-B. The problem was, 3-B seemed stuck in a labyrinthine network of offices, hangars, storage areas, and slanted concrete walkways that were wide enough to admit a car…without something hanging on the back of it. Emmett had ground his teeth for roughly twenty minutes every time he went down one of the ramps. He looked up and saw an older gentleman waving him to a stop in a larger, empty hangar. Emmett braked and set the van in park, getting out nervously. He stepped out into the hangar, not surprised to hear his footsteps resound throughout the chamber. It must have been fifty feet long and thirty wide, with strong iron ribbing. By the loud humming noise of a pair of huge industrial fans at the far end of the hangar, they were a good distance underground. He felt cold, goose pimples raising up on his arms and neck.

"You must be Emmett! Come here and let me look at you!" the older gentleman said, in perfect, resounding High German. Emmett smiled nervously. He had a good stern face, with large gray eyebrows hooding friendly brown eyes. His salt and pepper hair was oiled back, and he had a pleasant smile gracing a straight mouth with a full lower lip. The older man approached him and embraced him. "Goodness, last time I saw you, you were just a toddler! I was so surprised when I heard you…you found this great space ship-looking thing? Is it Russian?" he ruffled Emmett's hair.

"Er…I…Uncle…" Emmett clawed down his hair as Wernher von Braun pulled off the dustcover to the DeLorean and examined it with surprise. "It's….you're not going to believe me even if I tell you." He mumbled.

"Why wouldn't I?" von Braun said, peering in through the broken window. "This thing is amazing! What is it?"

"Its….a time machine." Emmett said softly.

His uncle looked at him a moment then burst into laughter. "Don't be silly! Now really, what is it? It looks like some sort of vehicle, it's got tires." The doctor said, his eyes bright with curiousity. Emmett didn't know how he would explain this to his uncle. He'd told the truth, but how would he prove it? He hadn't even thought about what would happen when he actually got the machine into his uncle's possession.

"Uncle Wernher, you've got to believe me. It's a time machine. It appeared on my parent's estate and a boy came with it! He claimed he was from the future and who am I to question him? He was wearing weird clothing of a material I'd never seen before. He had some stretchy substance in his underwear and…" he trailed off when he saw the look von Braun was giving him.

"And you what, stripped him?" the doctor chuckled and leaned against the machine, watching his nephew squirm and turn beet red. "Stop teasing me! Really, you sailed all the way across the Atlantic to tell me wild tales of a future boy falling out of a great silver machine? Come now, did you make it?"

Emmett studied his shoes. It wasn't really a lie. Marty did tell him he had created it. "I'm sorry. It was only a joke…yeah, I made it. Do you like it? It's a new car…I…I made some improvements to the engine and the steering column." He said weakly.

His uncle smiled and nodded to the car. "Well then, let's look under the hood."


	16. The Devil's Servant

Marty felt bile rising in the back of his throat. He'd been instructed to stay away from Barbie! He had to admit, such a creepy man with such a girlish last name would ensure he never looked the same way at Barbie dolls ever again. He considered bolting as he walked down the street toward the Gestapo headquarters, his stomach roiling. He could run, be outside of Munich, no one would ever know! He could find Emmett later…as soon as he thought it, the idea died. How would he ever get to the time machine if he ran now? He had to go through the proper channels, these people were not the type to let him stroll in with a convenient lie.

He opened the door to the Gestapo headquarters, face ashen. Another front desk greeted him, manned by a creature that looked equally as bored as Herr Kesler had been. "Guten Abend." The man greeted him flatly. "Was willst Ihr?"

"I…uh…I'm the new adjutant." Marty said weakly. The man raised an eyebrow and was about to raise a hand to dismiss him when Marty's new boss came striding through a side door. He grinned darkly at Marty and approached him, grasping his jaw with a strong, firm hand.

"Hello, Adjutant." Klaus purred. "Herr Bauer." He turned his head to the man at the desk. "Dieser mann ist mein neue Adjutant."

The man at the desk got up and went through the same side door that Barbie had come through. He reappeared with a black uniform, belt, undershirt, and armband, which he thrust at Marty after glancing over him. Marty barely caught it, having to kneel to grab the belt and pants off the floor. Barbie chuckled. "I should have chosen someone with more dexterity." He laughed. "Change." He flicked his wrist.

"I…uh…do you have a bathroom?" Marty asked.

Barbie's eyes glowed. "No. You'll change here. The first thing you learn about this job, is no one has any secrets from his Adjutant…and no Adjutant has secrets from his boss." Klaus purred, licking his lips. Marty stood there, looking from Klaus to Herr Bauer and back again. He flinched when he saw Klaus light a cigarette and stick it between his teeth, then reach for him. Klaus unbuttoned his shirt and crudely stripped it off of him, eyeing his prize as Marty was stripped bare. "Put his clothes in the incinerator. He won't need them anymore." Klaus said, tossing them at Bauer. When he got to Marty's pants, the teenager grabbed him by the wrist.

Barbie grinned and pulled Marty closer, the cigarette smoke making Marty's eyelids flutter and a cough rise in his throat. Klaus blew smoke in his face and undid his jeans, sliding his hand inside. Marty felt the gloved hand grasp him and begin to stroke him, slowly, powerfully. "I own you." Klaus growled under his breath, feeling Marty stiffen under his grasp. He moved his hand inside Marty's underwear and slid his hand around his cock. Marty's legs felt like they were going to give way, his cheeks reddening in embarrassment as the man in front of him pleasured him. Klaus' eyes were burning into his face, watching his expression. Marty grasped Klaus' arms and whimpered, his hips shivering as arousal burned in his loins. "That's right." Klaus whispered as he rubbed, watching Marty's breath quicken. "Now finish for me." He growled, and Marty was ashamed to feel himself cum on command. He fell on his knees to the floor, panting and sobbing all at once. A sharp whistle brought his eyes back to Klaus again, and to the glove inches from his face. "Look at the mess you made." Klaus said, voice deadpan. Marty could see creamy streaks on the leather, from palm to wrist. "Clean it with your tongue." His boss growled, his free hand going to wrap around the back of Marty's neck. Marty could feel the strength in those fingers, how easily they could crush him. He choked down another sob, leaned forward, and sucked his cum off of Klaus' fingers, lapping up the palm of the glove. The grip on the back of his neck loosened and Klaus stepped back, throwing the uniform in Marty's face. "Get that on and get into my office." He snarled, his voice icy.

The teenager felt stunned. He looked at Herr Bauer, who simply turned and sat back down at his desk. He obviously was no stranger to this sort of treatment. He struggled into the uniform and let shaking fingers button up the undershirt and pants. God, the man was insane, but he'd proved his point. Marty felt utterly dominated, and he knew this wasn't the last time Klaus would touch him. A whistle sounded down the hall. "Don't make me wait." Klaus called, and a dark chuckle rippled down the hallway to him. Another whistle, this time it was taunting, like someone would call a puppy.

Marty stumbled through the door and down the hallway after Klaus. The office atmosphere soon abandoned him, as the hallway angled downhill and the white walls gave way to stone. There were no windows, and here the lights flickered. Marty could see Klaus waiting down the hall for him, hands behind his back. Marty carefully approached him, stopping when Klaus turned his head to the side, tilting one ear toward him.

"Good boy." Klaus slapped his thigh and snapped his fingers. "Come here. Do you know what we do here, what your duties are?" he asked Marty.

"No." Marty said, rubbing his hand up one arm.

"No what?"

"No…sir."

Klaus smiled approvingly. "You'll attend me day in and day out. You'll bring coffee, organize my reports, listen to incoming reports on targets we're tracking. Anything I ask of you, you do. I ask you to bring me coffee from my favourite café half a city away….you do it. I ask you to sleep at the foot of my bed, you do it. I ask you to hand me a scalpel with a screaming man on the table….you. Do. It. My main job here is an interrogator. I have spies down here that I am working on, and I don't want to hear you speak to them. Following?" he asked, turning his head away and beginning to walk.

Marty followed him silently as they passed row after row of doors, cold running up and down his spine. How would he ever get out? He felt like he couldn't breathe down here!

"All the air is filtered through down here, we're below the streets. You get used to it. Now." Klaus stopped in front of a door with his name and job title labeled neatly above it with an iron plate. He opened it. Marty was faintly surprised to see a leather couch, complete with throw pillows and a knitted blanket, and pictures on the desk of an older man and woman who he could only assume were Klaus' family. The older man had the same cold look to his face. The woman was short, dumpy, and cheerful, smiling in all the pictures with her stone-faced husband and son.

The desk was cluttered with papers, a wastebasket that was overflowing with them, and a small mass of binders, red folders marked with the iron eagle, and a half-buried ashtray. Marty gulped. The man was clearly off his rocker, but how far he wouldn't know. They walked through the office and to another door where a large double bed lay in a small room, along with a leather knife roll. Klaus picked up the knife roll and brought it out to the office, smiling and flicking it open on the couch. "Come." He ordered.

Marty was too afraid not to. He looked down at the instruments…all bone handled, but crudely. The top of a human femur graced a long, thick knife. He recognized none of the other bones, but he got the chilling sensation they were all human. "Now. As for your last duty…" Klaus straightened and turned to Marty, grasping his coat by the collar and pulling him close. Marty shivered, shocked to feel those thin lips against his. "I own every part of you, including the piece between your legs. You'll sleep in my bed. Ride my hips every night, make me feel good." Klaus purred. "Starting now." Marty was thrown off balance as the hand that grasped his coat wrenched sideways and threw him to the floor. A ragged cry tore from his throat as Klaus flipped him on his back.

**·:·:·:·:·:·:·:·:·:·**

Emmett smiled and took the offered cup of water from his uncle. Von Braun smiled at him and settled down in the chair next to Emmett's, sipping his own cup of water. They had been examining the time machine for six hours, and had replaced the broken window. His uncle had been shocked to see that the car operated off a small, contained nuclear reactor. A case of spare plutonium would power it, and they had refueled the time machine with it. It was nice, to work together on a project.

"You know, Einstein came out with a theory recently." Wernher said, looking over at his nephew. "He says that time and space is like a piece of paper, that can be folded in two to travel short distances from one place to another. That this can be manipulated to travel through time as well as space."

Emmett nodded quietly. "Do you believe me now?" he asked.

"I don't know yet. But you certainly have the capability in this machine. That's what frightens me. This government is a good government, but it can be corrupt and in the worse ways possible." Von Braun said, sipping his water and looking at the partially-repaired time machine. "If we repair this…if we can repair it…you need to take it far from here. Time is not something that needs to be messed with…the ramifications of your future boy coming here are more than serious."

Emmett licked his lips nervously. "Like?"

"If he kills an ancestor. Or messes up how his ancestors meet." Wernher said. "It could undo his existence…or the existence of thousands of others. If he does exist, you need to bring him here. Where no one who could possibly be related to him could see him, and he won't see anyone with whom he has any connections. If he sees something like an old family friend, or a grandfather, he could kill us all."

Emmett contemplated his water cup. "Uncle…I think I made a big mistake…"


	17. Time Stream Rising

Marty slept on the floor. To his shock, Klaus hadn't just ripped off his clothes and fucked him. No, the man had laughed nastily in his face and left him on the floor. The teenager groaned and sat up, feeling then new clothes constrict his torso. "God, have these people ever heard of t-shirts…" he ran his fingers through his hair and sighed deeply. "So. I'm in the middle of Nazi Germany, working for a guy crazier than Ozzy on a cocaine bender, while my best friend who I desperately want to fuck for some reason is repairing a time machine he doesn't invent for another thirty years. Yeah, this is real." He stood up, groaning. He'd smacked the back of his head on the floor fairly hard. "This is too nuts not to be real."

He remembered his task, he had to get a job guarding the science labs so he could have access to the time machine. That way, when he went back to 1955, it would be a quick transition. There would be no running across town and hopefully very little suspicion. He just had to hope that Emmett's connections would mean he would be ok. That he would grow up, head back to America and become the Doc he knew and loved.

Marty looked around the office. He was the new office slave to the madman, it looked like. He approached the desk and began straightening up the papers. "I'll never complain about cleaning my locker ever again." Marty grumbled as he threw out old receipts and reports that were over six years old. He paused at one, opening the folder and gazing over it. He didn't understand any of the text, and gave up understanding any of the others. He simply tucked them away. He cleaned out the overflowing ashtray and wrapped up the trash, setting it outside the door of the office. He found cleaning supplies in a closet, and set to cleaning the rest of the room. Underneath the dust was a rather beautifully dark hardwood floor. The couch was the only thing he couldn't figure out. The stitches were oddly crooked, and when he picked up a couch cushion and turned it over, he dropped it in surprise. A tattoo was showing through the tanning process of the leather.

"Not my best work."

Marty turned around to see Klaus wiping blood off of his hands with a stained cloth. "I…uh…" he started, putting the couch cushion back on the couch. Klaus smiled calmly at him, going to sit down in the large leather armchair that crouched behind his desk. He slid a hand over the wood and examined his fingers, then eyed the neat stack of files. He flicked the top one open and chuckled.

"You alphabetized them." He commented, amused.

Marty felt red creeping up his neck. "I barely clean my own room, I didn't know what to do with them." He said weakly. Klaus laughed.

"You did well." The interrogator said, settling in the chair and examining Marty. "You know you have been in here over thirteen hours? You hit your head on the floor hard enough for me to hear the crack. You must be hungry."

Marty gave a cautious nod. Why did he get the distinct feeling he was strolling into a trap?

"Good." Klaus patted his lap with his palm sharply. "Come here. Tell me your name."

Marty slowly set down the rag he'd been using to clean and approached the desk. Klaus' eyes hardened slightly. "Are you daft, boy?" he purred darkly, slapping the inside of his thigh. "Sit."

Marty uncomfortably settled down on Klaus' lap, feeling strong arms wind around his torso and settle on his thighs. They sat in uncomfortable silence before Marty felt a chin settle onto his uniformed shoulder and a soft sigh in his ear. "Your name." Klaus repeated.

"M-Marty McFly, sir." The teenager said quietly. He felt Klaus' hand slide up his stomach. It didn't feel warm like Emmett's touches, his flesh crawled and seemed to try and shrink away from the interrogator's fingers all on its own.

"McFly. Irish name." Klaus said softly, the hand deftly unbuttoning Marty's shirt and touching bare skin, going up to circle around a nipple. "Tell me, McFly…" Marty couldn't help but notice Klaus said his last name with the same sneer Biff used to, "…how did you come here, to Germany? Just to join a little offshoot of the army?"

Marty shifted uncomfortably as Klaus played with his chest. "I…uh…didn't fit in with my family. I wanted to find a new family." He said softly. It wasn't completely a lie. Bfore the first time he'd traveled back in time, he didn't fit in with his family at all. It was all he could do to avoid them. Doc had become his family, the two of them outcasts.

Klaus seemed satisfied with the answer. "Seems a long way to go for a new family…but I understand. I never fit in with mine either." He said. "My mother was a kind woman. My father tried to eat me." He snorted with laughter, and Marty's gut twisted. "He came into my room one night with a knife, tried to open me from groin to belly. Must've been six. He had this idea in his head he was going to roast me, fuck my corpse, and serve me up to my mother." Klaus continued, voice completely devoid of emotion. "My mother hit him over the head with a pipe, and he was the one that went into the oven."

Marty wanted to hit him, to scream and run out of the building, to grab the first man he saw and yell in his face that a madman was chief interrogator. But he couldn't, and he didn't. He sat stock still in silence, feeling those hands crawl over his chest and down his bare stomach. Klaus nuzzled against his neck, inhaling his scent and pressing his lips to Marty's throat. He could feel Marty shrinking from him, and ducked his hand into Marty's pants again.

"I miss being close to him. He used to do this with me." Klaus whispered, but it was clear to Marty he was in his own little world. He wasn't speaking to Marty, he wasn't speaking to himself.

**·:·:·:·:·:·:·:·:·:·**

Doc coughed and shivered. Why was he so ill? His head hurt constantly, he had nosebleeds that flowed down his face like someone had punched him. He had to help Marty, he could feel new memories shoving themselves into his brain. Every time they did, he blacked out, and something was different. But he always woke up in the same pool of blood under his cheek from a nosebleed. One day he had a dog, the next day he didn't. One day he was in a house, the next few days were in his garage. He couldn't go on like this. He had to help Marty, and he had to get the boy home.

He had to face the facts. If he didn't get Marty home soon, he would die. He had found the schematics for the flux compacitor, but every day he was too sick to read it, too sick to fall asleep and have another memory in his head. His mad white-yellow hair was stained with blood, he was too scared to bathe and have the memories come upon him again, and then he would drown.

"Marty…" he looked over shakily at his sheepdog Einstein. "He's got to come home…he's got to." The dog whined and rested his chin on Doc's leg. Doc rubbed his ears, wiping under his nose for what felt like the millionth time. "I don't know what I'm going to do if he can't come home. I know where he is, he went to the recruitment office. I remember…somehow I remember helping him. I remember working with my uncle…I don't know if we get the machine working again…"

**·:·:·:·:·:·:·:·:·:·**

Emmett felt like they'd been getting nowhere with the machine. They'd gotten the engine running again, and fixed the starter. He'd managed to drive it in a circle around the large hangar, his uncle beaming with pride as the DeLorean zoomed around. But they had a larger problem. They had patched together the triad that Marty had labeled the 'flux compacitor', the window was repaired…but the nuclear circuitry was the reason it wasn't working. Not that Emmett would know if they did get it working. He was afraid to test it, going back in time would prove disastrous.

He sat in the car, looking at the flux compacitor. Whenever they turned on the switch labeled with the same name, it crackled and yellow bars of light moved outward. It made a small, low humming noise, charging the broken nuclear circuits with energy. Emmett sighed and ran his hands over the steering wheel. The gull wing doors had made such an impression on his uncle that the man had furiously sketched a schematic. Emmett wasn't sure about letting that go, it could have a repercussion later in the time stream. When he pointed this out to his uncle, the man had burned the schematic.

"You're right. We have to be careful." The man had said sadly.

Now, Emmett was stuck. They needed Marty with them, and his uncle was looking, but so far the search had been fruitless. Marty had been taken in the recruitment office by a high ranking man, and so far hadn't returned. He sighed and leaned his forehead on the steering wheel. He didn't want Marty to leave, he remembered the way they'd ground together in the van, the way Marty had been inches from undoing his pants and making love to him. The way men made love. He had thought about him at night, when he was in the cot assigned to him on the walls of the hangar. He'd touched himself thinking about him. He'd dreamed of him.

He looked up when his uncle knocked on the window of the car. He watched him step back and Emmett opened the gull wing doors. He saw the look on his uncle's face and for a moment thought the worst. "He's with Klaus Barbie. That was the man that took him from the recruitment office." He said, and he saw Emmett's face pale.


	18. A Nuclear Idea

It was back to work again.

Emmett was so frustrated with the time machine he could have simply burned it and said to hell with the lot. The nuclear circuitry was so far beyond them his uncle was still puzzling over the basic functions. The car was in effect a tiny nuclear reactor, containing and harnessing a nuclear reaction in order to gain the energy to jump forward or back in time. His uncle was utterly fascinated by the concept. If one went to the same period in time, the same moment, would one transport to an alternate reality or simply teleport on top of itself simultaneously? It opened up an entirely new world of science to him.

Emmett just wanted the damned thing to work.

Days passed, and it felt like they were going backwards. Every so often members of the SS would come to 'check in' on their progress, but each time they made up some clever excuse and eventually renounced the time machine as nothing more than a clever automobile design. Inquiries about Marty McFly only earned them pitying looks, or confused ones. From what Von Braun had been able to find out, Marty McFly was trapped in the clutches of Klaus Barbie, training as his new Adjutant. Asking for more only got them stonewalled by the guards, and they were forced to return to focus on the car.

Finally Emmett had an idea. They'd mapped out every inch of the car, but the nuclear circuits weren't anywhere near the engine which had initially caused confusion. Everything seemed to rest on the giant contraption that took up the back half of the vehicle. Emmett got up from his chair, looking over at his uncle. Their card table was strewn with sketches, half-baked ideas and photographs of the car. The SS had graciously allowed them the card table and wooden chairs, a few other luxuries since it was clear they had a limited range of movement in the laboratory. It was clear after a few days that only Von Braun was allowed to leave, as he did so to sleep and eat. Emmett was stopped at the hangar door, and shoved toward a cot in the corner.

Von Braun was sleeping softly in his chair, the official peaked cap he used whenever he went to ask the SS for supplies tugged over his eyes. Emmett walked toward the car, thinking. He opened up the back and examined the canister, which they assumed was for fuel. There had to be fuel of some nuclear type somewhere in the car, or else they could make some. The thing was tubular, which meant that the fuel was relatively small…perhaps in a case. Emmett assumed it to be a liquid in which plutonium or some other nuclear element was placed. But plutonium was such a new element…it had just been synthesized in their own time stream. "It must be as common as coins in the future…" Emmett reasoned as he dug through the small storage spaces behind the seats. Finally, he withdrew a black case with metal protecting the edges.

Emmett smiled and hauled the case over to the card table, plunking it down with a loud clank. His uncle awoke with a start, snorting and pulling his hat down from his face. "What did you find?" he asked sleepily, blearily watching as Emmett flicked the latches and opened the top of the case. Lined in an odd, soft foam was a pair of glass cylinders filled with yellow liquid, with a solid gray lump resting peacefully at the bottom. A metal ring was attatched to the bottom of it, Emmett assumed so the machine could extract the power needed. "What the hell is that?" Von Braun frowned and reached forward to pick up the glass. Emmett heard him swear and set it down immediately back in the case, looking at his hands as if he'd been burnt.

"What? What is it?" Emmett asked curiously.

"Close the case, for God's sake. Whatever that stuff is, we shouldn't be touching it without thick gloves…that glass burned to the touch, like my hands were on fire." Von Braun said, eyeing the case as Emmett hurriedly snapped it shut. "We need your future boy, and we need him now. We found the fuel, we can start this thing."

"A-Are you sure? Shouldn't we test it?" Emmett asked.

"We aren't sure how to load it, and even if we were there's only enough time for one jump. If the SS see us suddenly disappear then reappear a few hours later, they're going to report to the Fuhrer. He's going to know what we have." Von Braun said gravely. "No, we can only do this once…and pray to God your future boy knows what he's doing."

**·:·:·:·:·:·:·:·:·:·**

Marty set down the coffee in front of Klaus silently. In four days he had learned not to speak much, and to keep his eyes open. His employer had, in four days, broken the arms of two of his own men for speaking out of turn, and slashed the throat of a third. Marty burned with anger…how could they simply let this madman run wild, killing Nazi and spy alike?

The answer lay in the information Klaus funneled to the Reichstag. It was a constant flow, heavy with letters, confessions, admissions…Klaus was allowed to run wild because of how good he was. The Reich was content to turn its head the other way as long as their Chief Interrogator kept on doing his job. Though if Klaus ever slacked, Marty was sure the man would be put to death or at the very least committed.

He saw Klaus lift the cup to his lips and delicately sip. He raised an eyebrow ever so slightly and put the cup back down. "Which coffeeshop did you go to?" he asked, and Marty felt his stomach bottom out.

"The one you told me…the one on..uh…F…Feldstrasser?" Marty felt any other words die in his throat as Klaus shook his head.

"There are three coffeeshops on Feldstrasser."

"I went to the one with the…the cup on the sign…?" Marty said timidly. Klaus smirked and lifted his hand as if to strike Marty. Instead, a deft flick of his wrist sent the coffee cup flying, and hot brown liquid spilled all over the floor.

"Oops." Klaus said coldly. "Clean that up. When you're done, come to me for punishment."

"The closet again?" Marty asked. He had figured out Klaus' favourite punishment was to put his guards or other subordinates in a hallway closet. Whenever someone came in for cleaning supplies, the victim was instructed to follow that person on hands and knees, and clean up whatever needed to be cleaned…with his tongue.

Klaus smirked. "No. I have something else in store for you. The SS have sent me a file on a nephew of Wernher von Braun's. Apparently, he's been asking about you…odd…for some kid coming to dear old onkel with a science project would be asking so fervently after you." He purred.

Marty's heart lifted…Emmett had been looking for him? Klaus saw his reaction and played with a pen on his desk, looking at his adjutant coyly. "Any particular reason, hm?" he asked.

"I…uh…we…went to school together." Marty said lamely.

"Close friends?"

Klaus' tone was a bit too light for Marty's liking. Another one of his discoveries about Klaus Barbie was the way he spoke. An angry tone from Klaus Barbie was so much less dangerous than a friendly one.

"Yes." Marty said.

"Well, why don't we go and visit him?" Klaus said, an acidic smile on his face as he rose and grabbed his coat. "I'll not have you wear the same uniform, Marty. Put on the clothes you wore when we first met."

"You had those burnt…" Marty trailed off.

"Exactly." Klaus grinned. "Now, take those clothes off. I won't have you dallying all day…and the quicker you walk, the less you have to spent naked in public." He purred.


	19. Paying Tribute to Lady Godiva

If Marty's skin was any redder he could have hidden himself behind one of the street banners. Klaus Barbie walked in front of him, casually, reminding Marty of some possessed panther. All in black and worse on the inside than he was on the outside. There was Marty trailing along behind him, doing his best not to look anywhere but the heels of the jackboots in front of him. Luckily Barbie hadn't forced him to part with his underwear, but he felt utterly ridiculous in a pair of lavender Calvin Kleins. The only reason he'd been allowed to keep them was because of the designer's last name, which Barbie had been highly amused by.

"I wonder how fucking funny he'd think it was if he knew how stupid his name is back home." Marty grumbled under his breath. Every so often he'd get gasps of surprise or nervous giggles about his underwear. A few men mocked him outright, and women either coughed and looked away or covered their childrens' eyes.

"Enjoying yourself, American?" Klaus glanced behind him with an amused chuckle.

Marty wanted to throw something at him.

"I'm fine, sir." He growled deeply. He couldn't stop the hatred entering his voice, but luckily his commander shook it off easily. In fact, it seemed to amuse him further. Torturing Marty was swiftly becoming a favorite activity. "How far is it to the Weapons Development thing?" he asked. He'd picked up a few smatterings of German in the past few days, but he plainly had no gift for language. German utterly confused him.

"Waffen Endwitlungsabteilung." Klaus corrected. "Fifteen blocks or so."

"Fifteen blocks?!" Marty repeated, and nearly crashed into Barbie when he stopped dead.

The man turned around and curled a hand underneath Marty's chin, craning his head up painfully to look him in the eye. "Did I stutter?" Klaus asked lightly. Marty shook his head and the madman released him, resuming his walk. Marty scrambled to catch up.

He was exhausted by the time they'd reached the other end of town. He was panting and thoroughly sick of the mocking. Once they'd entered the military division of the city it had turned into outright laughter. Men grabbed their friends to come look at him. Barbie's new little pet being taken out for a walk. Marty's blush felt like it would extend to his toes when they passed a pair of men who were giggling so hard one of them had to lean against a lamppost.

Yet he took some comfort in the fact that none of them knew just how crazy Barbie was, and if they did they might not have been laughing. He ran his fingers through his hair and grumbled under his breath. At least Emmett would be alright, if Barbie didn't insist on pursuing the suspicion they were lovers. It wasn't really true, was it? He hadn't even touched Emmett…there…yet. He was still confused about what he was supposed to be, and it was hard when he didn't have a spare moment to smooth out his rumpled feelings.

They were greeted at the door of the Waffen Endwitlungsabteilung building by an SS officer who gave them a nasty look.

„Klaus Barbie. Sie sind nicht berechtigt hier zu sein." The man said coldly. „Sie wurden permanent mit dem Gestapo zugewiesen."

Marty could pick up the words permanent and Gestapo...it didn't make much sense.

„Dieser Junge weiß etwas über eine Ihrer Maschinen. Das Auto." Klaus said, matching the man for tone.

Das Auto? The car? So Klaus had heard about the time machine. It wasn't surprising, Klaus seemed to know a lot more than he let on. He was an interrogator and leader of the secret police, after all. If something escaped his notice he wouldn't be in a job for long.

The SS officer looked at Marty. „Warum ist er nackt?" he asked in disgust.

Marty struggled with the sentance while Klaus allowed himself a chuckle. „Um seinen Gehorsam zu zeigen." he explained lightly. The officer frowned but opened the door for them.

„Das fünfte Stockwerk tiefer öffnet sich zu einem Hangar. Sie sollten sie dort." The man told them curtly.

"Fifth floor down in a hangar. Remember that." Klaus told Marty as they headed for the stairs. "Tell me, you don't look like the machinist sort. And you obviously didn't invent it. I saw the photographs the SS took, this project has been labeled extraordinarily secret. I don't even think the Fuhrer knows yet." He said, his voice booming down the stairwell. Marty was feeling dizzy from the way they whipped around the corners, down landing after landing. The floors had three or four staircases apiece, implying their size.

"I told you, I just went to school with him." Marty said nervously, following close on the man's heels.

"Then why ask after you?" Klaus replied. "They could have just send you a telegraph, or called on the phone. You arrived together from the ship, did you not? With the machine?"

Marty frowned as he followed. "How did you..."

"Honestly, if you haven't figured out the Reich's love of beaurocracy by now..." Klaus said, disgust creeping into his tone. Marty had found in the past few days that if there was something Herr Barbie couldn't stand it was incompetence. Or stupidity.

"You got the papers that quick..?" Marty asked meekly, suddenly feeling foolish for not remembering the hour spent in the cramped immigration office waiting for a tourism permit.

"Standard background check. You haven't applied to live here formally and you don't have an ahnenpass, so I had to ask the only immigration office that had heard of a Martin McFly. The irish don't visit often, you were easy to track down. You arrived with a boy of German descent and apparently were very concerned about the machine involved. You have a vested interest in a project that so far stuns our most brilliant minds. They haven't even figured out the steering column yet let alone that ghastly mass of contraption in the back." Klaus sneered. He obviously didn't think much of Marty.

"He's my friend...he loves that car and I was just-" Marty was stopped when Klaus whipped around and slammed him against the concrete wall with a forearm.

"Don't. Lie. To me. Lie to me, and I will bring you back to the office where we can get to know one another a lot better." Klaus growled darkly, his face inches from Marty's. The scent of blood on his breath and uniform sent shivers down Marty's spine. Klaus' eyes were unforgiving and cold as granite. "I enjoy looking at you. But don't think I'd not use your hide for a new set of throw pillows on that couch if you know something about that machine you're not telling me. I could do it right here in the stairwell."

The worst noise Marty had ever heard hissed through the stairwells, and his commander's bone-handled skinning blade was tucked under his chin. "Do you understand me?" Klaus pressed harder.

"I don't know anything about it, I swear!" Marty's legs were shaking.

Klaus grabbed his hand and slammed it to the wall, eyeing the delicate flesh on the underside of Marty's forearm. „"Sit still or I might hit something important." Klaus growled. The skinner slid underneath his skin like fingers under a shirt, and pain blossomed. Marty's breathing picked up, echoing throughout the hallway as Klaus gently, skillfully carved out a symbol on the skin. Marty watched the buttery flesh peel away to reveal red, angry muscle and white fat underneath. When he saw a flash of one of the long, delicate tendons connecting his wrist to his elbow, he thought he might faint.

Klaus finished his carving and crumpled up the wet piece of red skin he'd shorn from Marty's forearm. A red swastika wept blood down his victim's arm, dripping from his elbow onto the floor. He released the teenager and Marty slid down to the floor. He felt wetness on the back of his pants and realized with horror he had sat in a tiny puddle of his own blood. He cradled his arm and flinched when Klaus straightened and threw his own flesh at him.

"A reminder to where your loyalties lie now, Herr McFly. I'll give you a day to think about what you know, then to tell me. If you don't within that day...well. I'll just have to have those throw pillows with a few more holes then won't I?" Klaus growled, squatting so he could look Marty in the eye. "Least you didn't scream." He seized Marty's arm and the boy really did see black spots in his vision.

Klaus withdrew a lighter and let the flame sit for a few moments, then drew the fire over the cuts. They hissed angrily and the horrible smell of burning blood hit the air, but the bleeding stopped. Klaus threw a handkerchief at Marty. "Get up." He snapped.

**·:·:·:·:·:·:·:·:·:·**

Emmett paced nervously when his uncle came with the news that Klaus Barbie was towing Marty to him. Putting in the request with the SS had worked, and it had found its way to his future boy. But therein lay the problem. Both Emmett and Von Braun had expected Marty to arrive alone. That way, they could perform the time jump and Von Braun could get Emmett and himself out of Germany before anyone noticed.

They had it all set up with a man from Switzerland who was content to aid them in escaping the Schutzstaffel's wrath. But Klaus Barbie, here?

It had put them both off breakfast.

When the hangar doors finally opened Emmett found out he'd been chewing on his thumbnail so harshly he'd drawn blood. He wiped his thumb hurriedly on his pants and froze when Klaus Barbie slunk into the room, smoothly as a shark through water. He heard a swift rustle behind him and hurriedly put up a salute as well. He'd nearly forgotten.

Barbie waved the respect away and whistled sharply behind him. Emmett was relieved to see Marty alive, but naked and red faced as if he'd been crying. He was swift to see he was cradling an arm that was haphazardly bandaged with a handkerchief.

"I believe you know this boy." Klaus smirked to Emmett, and swiftly ignored the two of them in favor of Von Braun.

Marty shuffled to his friend as Klaus took Von Braun aside. "What happened to your arm?!" Emmet said, grasping Marty's hand and turning it over so he could see. He unwrapped the handkerchief and gasped at the throbbing, swollen swastika carved into Marty's flesh. He rebound it, a little better than Marty had, and pulled him into a hug. "I'm so sorry that happened Marty...what went wrong? I told you to go to the SA office...how did you end up with him?"

"I was in the office but he came and...claimed me I guess. It's all so fucked up.." Marty said softly, resisting the urge to cry into Emmett's shoulder. "He's so fucking horrible...he skins people. Threatened to skin me. He put those evil fucking hands between my legs and..." he trailed off and nuzzled into Emmett's neck. "I can't do this for much longer Doc, I just can't. Did you fix it yet?"

Emmett nodded slowly and looked over at his uncle. He looked distressed for some reason. "We think we did...we found the fuel. The plutonium. Is that how you make the time jump? That whole car is nuclear!"

Marty recalled a conversation in the parking lot of a certain mall. He smiled softly and shook his head. "No...it's electrical. But it can make a nuclear charge. Were the radiation suits still in there? The freaky looking things with the giant plastic hoods?" he asked.

"That's what those are?" Emmett said as Marty pulled away from the hug and nodded.

"Radioactive stuff is pretty dangerous, turns out. You can't even open that case without it on. You always told me it was better to be safe than in the hospital." Marty said fondly. "I can't wait to go back!" The happy expression on his face faded when he heard a sharp whistle. Fortunately, it wasn't for him. The two guards normally standing outside the hangar entered, followed by the two others from the entrance where the van had driven in.

"Herr McFly, time to go." Klaus called to him, slapping his thigh. Marty despised being called like a dog, but risked giving Emmett a kiss on the cheek before he placidly scurried after his master.

Emmett watched the two of them go, then his uncle approach him with an ashen expression on his face. Emmett eyed the four SS guards as they approached the car and threw the blanket covering back over it. "What's going on?" Emmett asked. Von Braun gave a soft sigh and chewed his lip for a moment, as if considering how to phrase exactly what was wrong.

"Herr Barbie...thinks it's a good idea to present it as a weapon. The guards have heard everything. They heard about the plutonium and put it in a report." Von Braun said hollowly.

Emmett's heart sank as all of their careful planning fell to pieces around his ankles. "Who are we presenting it to?"

"The Fuhrer."


	20. You're Not Coming Alive

The fanfare with which the event was conducted seemed to have whipped up faster than a desert simoon. Marty was pressed into his uniform without delay upon return. He was fastening up the high collar, which seemed more likely to strangle him than make him look official, when he heard the door open behind him. He'd learned over the course of the last few weeks to dread such a noise, and when he heard no footsteps he knew who it was. Klaus slid his long-fingered, elegant hands to his waist and rested a chin on his left shoulder bar, eyes on the same mirror Marty hadn't dared look away from.

"You don't deserve to be in those blacks…but it's appealing none the less." He said lightly. "I have turned over security to my second in command. My duty is first to this facility, secondary to my interrogation hobbies, and tertiary… to protect the Fuhrer. There is no swifter man with a knife. And none more silent." Klaus purred the last sentence to him, his hands slithering up the uniform coat to touch Marty's bare skin.

The teenager knew better than to say anything. "After the Fuhrer is done looking at his new toy…I think I've pawed you long enough. I want to be inside of you." Klaus growled, his teeth curling around the shell of Marty's ear and pinching the flesh. Marty couldn't resist shivering this time, and felt a low chuckle tickle his eardrum. "And I will be. Tonight, when we arrive back…I've given my personal guards the night off. I will claim you…then you will do one more thing for me."

"What's that?" Marty's spoke through clenched teeth when Klaus' hand rose up to stroke over one of his nipples.

"You'll take me back with you." Klaus hissed.

**·:·:·:·:·:·:·:·:·:·**

Emmett felt like his heart was about to burst out of his chest when he saw the time machine being hauled out of the research facility. He wrung his hands nervously and looked at his uncle. There had to be something they could do, the machine was repaired! All they needed was Marty.

"Can't we do something?" he asked von Braun desperately, but the man shook his head with a pursed mouth.

"We can't do a thing. We're to accompany the machine and make sure it's repaired properly. They want us to drive it around the Reichstag plaza for the Fuhrer, demonstrate its abilities." Von Braun said, his tone even and cold. He obviously didn't like it any more than Emmett. "Your future boy is going to be there with Klaus Barbie as well. As part of security. I'm going to introduce the machine and what I've discovered about it…and you as the inventor."

Emmett gulped quietly. "The inventor?" he said quietly. Panic rose in his throat. He'd been discovering just as much about the machine as his uncle! All von Braun knew, he knew also! What could he possibly say that was new, that could impress them? "W-who am I going to be speaking to?" he asked quietly as they walked up the stairs and out of the research facility.

"Likely the Fuhrer himself, Himmler, and Goebbels since the little simian can't seem to keep his nose out of the business of the military. You'll know the Fuhrer, he's been in the newspapers. Goebbels is the smallest out of the group, but don't underestimate him. He's got no gift for military but he can sniff out a political liability from a mile off. Himmler can't see his hand in front of his face past a few feet, but can hit a sparrow out of the sky with a pistol. Don't ask me how." Von Braun said quietly, and even though Emmett already knew most of the information he thought it better to be silent.

He played nervously with his hands as they stepped out into the open air for the first time in what seemed like weeks. The time machine was being pulled placidly in front of them, guards both in front and along the sides. "Where are we going?" Emmett asked.

"To the Reichstag. It's a long walk, but the soldiers run fifteen miles a day. They're not bothered." Von Braun replied. "Himmler's training makes them like machines. They could probably run flat out from here to the Reichstag."

Emmett nodded, looking at the soldiers gliding along with ease alongside them. They kept a fast, even pace that Emmett felt taxing. They moved like wolves, and he was so out of shape compared to them he might as well have been three hundred pounds and lame. He blushed slightly when one of them gave him a glance and the company paused to let the two scientists catch up.

When they rounded the last corner, his breath hitched. The plaza was giant. It was at least the size of the giant, domed building with its outstretched wings to left and right. It stretched out in front of the german parliament with the elegance and arrogance of a space that simply knew it could fit several thousand people comfortably on its neat, flat swaths of concrete. This was what he had to drive the car around in. Ringing the area were several hundred officers, flanking a raised platform that had three figures perched in chairs. They were mere ants at this range, but as they drew closer the figures began to differentiate. Emmett spotted two men in front of the podium. The first he recognized with a small jolt of adrenaline. Klaus Barbie, resting with his back against the podium and an easy smirk on his face.

The teenager next to him was none other than Marty McFly, looking extremely nervous.

**·:·:·:·:·:·:·:·:·:·**

One of the scientists stepped forward and began to speak in a powerful, authoritative voice. Marty recognized him from the laboratory…that must be Wernher von Braun. The figures above and behind them were silent as the scientist spoke, and Marty's heart froze when von Braun gestured with an elegant hand toward him. "Go. He says you know how to operate it." Klaus purred coldly behind him.

Marty, with legs that felt like they were going to give way at any moment, stepped out from the protective shadow of the podium. He felt six eyes burning into his spine and gave an unconscious shiver of nerves. He approached Emmett and took a deep breath as the time machine was unhitched and the truck hauling it silently pulled away.

"See you on the other side." Marty said softly in passing to Emmett, and he saw the young teenager's face grow anxious. It was clear Emmett so desperately wanted to say something to him, but both teenagers knew it was impossible. To time jump here would make the plaza explode into chaos the minute the machine disappeared, but Marty had faith in Emmett.

Marty felt footsteps behind him. Klaus. He should have known the man wouldn't let him do this alone. "To act as translator. Your german is abominable." Klaus informed him with a tight smile as the two of them reached the machine's side and turned back to face the high command. Marty felt his eyes rake over Hitler. The man had a gentle face if stern face, much to his surprise. Blue eyes waited patiently, sparked with intelligence. The men next to him weren't quite so…non-threatening. The skinny creature with the gaunt face was giving him a look of expectant sarcasm. He obviously expected this venture to be a wild goose chase. He must be Goebbels. The third man he couldn't read… he looked like a librarian, with thick glasses perched upon an arrow-straight nose. But even Marty could see he was muscular, his very hands looked like they could pull the pistol from his side and fire like it was an extension of his being rather than a weapon.

Hitler rose with an easy, fluid grace though Marty didn't miss the slight shaking of his right hand as he clasped his hands in front of his body. He spoke with a commanding, thunderous tone that quite easily echoed over the plaza, like honey cascading over a thunderhead. "He's asking you to go forth with the demonstration." Klaus told him, and Marty opened the driver's side gull wing door. He saw a small ripple of surprise go through the assembled soldiers as he settled into the driver's seat.

He also caught the look Klaus gave him. No funny business. "Go fuck yourself, pervert." He growled under his breath as he turned the key in the ignition. He felt the engine roar to life, and with baited breath he flicked the time circuits on. The lights shivered for a moment, then held strong. He looked at the panel readout. "I hope to God you fixed this thing Emmett." He muttered under his breath, then typed in 1985 into the destination readout. He felt the flux capacitor behind him hiss and crackle. His blood froze and he twisted around to watch it, but as if in answer to his prayers it began to oscillate properly.

"Alright." Marty turned back around and fastened his seatbelt, grasping the stick shift in one hand and the steering wheel in the other. Klaus was standing close to the machine…and Marty's eyes flicked toward the side of the time machine. He could see a piece of the time machine sticking out from the sides, and an evil idea entered his mind.

He shifted out of park and slammed his foot on the accelerator. He heard a startled roar as the piece caught Klaus Barbie squarely in the side, and the interrogator instinctively grasped the handle and top of the car. Marty smirked and glanced outside at the furious psychopath. He had roughly three hundred yards to get to 88 miles an hour, and he'd be damned if he was going to be stuck here forever.

He headed for the far end of the plaza and whipped the time machine around to face the platform, leaving dark streaks on the concrete. He could hear Klaus scrabbling against the side of the machine, trying to free himself. Marty glanced out the side mirror, and caught a flash of the interrogator's belt hopelessly entangled in the sharp metal. He held his breath, and floored it.

The machine bucked and roared toward the podium, carrying the roaring interrogator with it. Gunfire rippled across the plaza as the soldiers suddenly began to realize Marty wasn't stopping to release Klaus. "You wanted to come back with me? You're not coming alive." Marty growled through his teeth.

20.

Concrete was rushing toward him, and he saw the flash of a knife in his peripheral vision. A bullet pinged off the passenger side door.

40.

The columns lining the plaza turned into swiftly-passing blurs.

60.

Soldiers whipped by, startled, and with them Marty blew past Emmett.

75… the podium was rearing in front of him.

80…85…Marty felt his heart leap into his throat as lightning crackled around the frame of the machine. He yelped when he heard the scream of metal and saw the blade of the long-handled skinning knife slam down from the ceiling, narrowly missing his shoulder.

The needle struck 88 and hovered. Marty was able to make out the expressions on the faces of the high command. The last thing he heard was the furious scream of Klaus Barbie just as the crackling reached a thunderous roar and he snapped out of existence.


	21. The Broken Beast

Marty let out a scream when the millisecond flash landed him squarely in the middle of a busy street. He turned the steering wheel sharply to avoid oncoming traffic, his heart beating wildly in his chest. He was in Germany, in 1985! Not home yet but it might as well have been. He careened around a corner and slammed on the breaks as soon as he saw what looked like a parking lot. He sat still, his hands shaking so hard on the steering wheel he could hear the rabbit-like thumping of his palms on the wheel. He looked over at the knife blade inches from his shoulder, feeling cold emanate from it.

He felt the bottom drop out of his stomach. Klaus? He was too afraid to look. He'd just killed a person. His mind flashed back to the first time travel, and how ice had coated the outside of the machine. Yet…it had only been the first time it had been like that. The other time travels had been so swift the cold had been more of a flash freeze. Doc told him it lasted less than a fraction of a second, and couldn't really be measured anyway since that exact point in time was miscible with both destination and departure.

Marty was too afraid to look, and too afraid to drive. This was West Berlin, luckily, under control of the British and the Americans. Which meant he could probably get home without too much incident. He took a deep breath and shut his eyes.

His calm was short lived when the knife blade shivered, and the steel groaned. When he saw the knifepoint slowly withdraw upwards he slammed the DeLorean out of park and floored the reverse so hard he saw the man tumble forward over the hood and fall to the pavement. Again he stopped. "No fucking way. No way. Please be dead. Please be dead." Marty whispered over and over, his eyes glued to the prostate form still clutching the knife. Steam rose off the uniformed body.

As well as a low, angry growl. The body slowly shifted and Klaus raised himself on his elbows, coughing and spitting blood out onto the pavement. "Please be dying…." Marty prayed as soon as he saw the blood. Klaus struggled to try and gather his legs under him but collapsed back onto the concrete. He lay there, panting, struggling to breathe and coughing up blood. But all too soon the blood slowed to a trickle on the side of his mouth and began to breathe more normally. His teeth were red with his blood, and his eyes were wide and bloodshot. Capillaries had burst, even in the millisecond of low temperatures, and the interrogator was temporarily blinded. He pawed blindly at the concrete, blinking repeatedly as if he could recover his sight simply by doing so.

Marty was frozen, staring at the psychopath. He was hearing sirens, American troops would be there soon. He looked down at himself and swore, hurriedly unbuttoning the tight uniform coat and ripping the armband off his right bicep. He shoved the top half of the uniform under the passenger seat and looked down at the wifebeater. The jodhpurs couldn't be taken off, Klaus had burned his jeans to cinders. Nor could the boots. He swore under his breath and watched Klaus crawl about blindly. He'd unwittingly unleashed a powerful interrogator on modern day citizens…he couldn't. He had to get Klaus back to his time stream, and make it seem like he had never left. To let history take its course.

He unclipped the seatbelt and opened the gull wing doors, scrambling over to Klaus and catching his arm. He stumbled back and fell on his rear when the skinning knife flashed out at him. Klaus was deadly even blind and deaf. He seemed dizzied by the movement and rested his forehead on the ground, trying to breathe. Marty could hear him wheezing. He had to get him in the car and de-uniformed before the American or British guards caught them. If Klaus was arrested, he couldn't return him to his time stream. Marty grasped his arm and hauled him up, helping the interrogator reel drunkenly toward the DeLorean. He unceremoniously shoved the man into the passenger seat and got into the driver's seat.

"McFly." Klaus hissed, sounding like he'd been screaming for weeks at a Van Halen concert. He coughed small blood droplets onto the dash board. "I know your smell." He rested back and closed his damaged eyes.

Marty stared at him for a moment, hairs rising on the back of his neck. Against his better judgement he slowly wheeled out of the parking lot and headed toward the border of the city. He heard Klaus shift and saw the man shivering, undoing his coat and laying it over his body. So the cold had caught up with him. "I hope you rot from the inside out." Marty growled. He needed to think of a plan if he was going to get back to America with Klaus. He reached the border soon enough, slowing the car and taking a deep breath when he saw an American tap the side window lightly with his knuckles.

"Sprechen Sie Englisch?" the man asked in an accent so Midwestern Marty could have leapt out of the car and hugged him.

"Thank God yes." Marty said in relief.

"The hell you call this thing?" the man asked a bit incredulously.

Klaus coughed and the soldier leaned down a bit and looked over at the man. "Who's that? I'm going to have to see both your identifications." The soldier said.

"He's sick and we don't have identifications. We need to get out of the city." Marty said lamely.

The soldier looked nervously at Klaus. "There's a good hospital here son." He pointed out. Marty gritted his teeth for a moment, on edge from simply being around the incapacitated madman. The longer Klaus stayed that way the better.

"I just need to get home…we're from the other side of the wall. I don't want to be in this country…I want to leave." Marty said, knowing he sounded stupider than a sack of bricks. He heard Klaus chuckle sickly from the passenger seat. Great, his hearing was returning.

"It's not protocol to allow you to pass without ID. I'm sorry, you're going to have to come with us." The soldier said sadly. "Step out of the car. We'll get your friend to a hospital."

Marty slammed on the gas and roared through the checkpoint, shutting his eyes as soon as they hit the chainlink fence and ripped through it. He heard startled shouts as he careened down the road out of the city. "I've broken so many goddamn laws today…" Marty grumbled through gritted teeth.

"Americans…in…Berlin?" Klaus hissed. "How..? What have you done.."

"It's what your people did!" Marty snapped at him.

**·:·:·:·:·:·:·:·:·:·**

Doc opened his eyes to the beeping of a monitor. His bleary vision cleared after a few seconds and he blinked. "Marty..?" he moaned softly. He so desperately needed the boy he'd loved for what seemed like centuries there, holding his hand. But the beeping of the monitor prevailed. The man sighed and led his head fall back onto the pillow. He knew what had happened. Neurons that should have been decades old were pushing themselves into his memory, appearing out of thin air painfully. He sighed softly…but the memories seemed to have stopped. He tried to access them. How had he gotten out of Berlin after Marty escaped?

He couldn't remember. All he knew was he wanted to see the boy that had awoken feelings in him that he had locked away for decades. He wanted nothing else than to grab the boy he loved and kiss him. Marty had returned, and his heart ached for him.

But something about the way Marty vanished bothered him. He felt like it had been bothering him for years. Marty had taken someone with him.


	22. Homeward Bound

Marty had been driving for hours, ignoring the needle on the fuel gauge sink lower and lower. He had to run somewhere, anywhere. His first thought was to get a plane from France or Spain, and perhaps ship the DeLorean back. But with what? He had no money to speak of, and he could get arrested for what he was wearing, let alone what Klaus was wearing. He blinked and looked down at the crumpled jacket and undershirt jammed cruelly under the passenger seat. In 1985, those were historical artifacts…would their sale be enough to get him home? He eyed Klaus' uniform. He had no idea what it was like on the Nazi memorabilia circuit, but even he knew finding a full uniform would be a rare thing.

Perhaps worth enough to get him home. Then, he resolved, he was never leaving his town again on pain of death.

The engine was beginning to knock about, and he pulled himself out of his daze long enough to look at the fuel gauge. It was hovering right above E, but as he stared at it the needle gave up the fight and dropped exhaustedly down to nothing. The car cranked and growled to a slow, grinding stop on the road. Marty sighed and let his head hit the steering wheel, angry at himself. At least they were hours away from the troops they'd startled. He felt his body relax as exhaustion over took him, the engine quietly winding down to nothing.

Marty awoke to the sound of birds chirping and wind blowing inside the cabin of the DeLorean. Wind? He blinked and sat up with a start, looking over at the empty passenger seat…and the open door. He swore loudly and struggled with the seatbelt, all exhaustion melting away as panic set in. He scrambled to get the seatbelt off and succeeded with a loud click. He shoved open the gull wing door at his side, swearing loudly. He looked at the forest around him, his hands going up to grip his scalp. His eyes raked the quiet woods.

"Fuck!" he roared.

"Good morning."

Marty turned around with a start to find Klaus less than a foot away from him, and promptly fell on his rear in surprise. The interrogator chuckled darkly, like gravel rumbling down the side of a mountain. Marty noticed blood on his hands, then looked behind him as Klaus pulled out a small brace of rabbits from his back. "Breakfast. No, I haven't killed yet." Klaus smirked, jerking his head toward the woods. "I've always felt more comfortable in the wild. I've made a fire."

Klaus turned and walked into the woods, carrying the three rabbits with him. Marty scrambled to his feet. He couldn't let Klaus loose, and part of him wondered how the man had killed the quick little creatures with only a knife. "Fucking shark." Marty muttered, letting his nose guide him to the fire. Klaus was butchering the rabbits with a quick, practiced hand, throwing the entrails in the fire and setting aside the skins. There was still a loud wheeze to his breath and his voice was gravelly. Marty could spot slight hitches in his movements.

"I know you wished I were dead. I also know you're afraid that I'm going to whip around and kill you." Klaus said without looking at him, but their eyes met when Klaus lifted his head and in one swift movement plunged a sharpened stick through the rabbit he was dressing. Marty flinched. "But I won't. My suspicions about you were right. I don't understand it, but this thing can travel through time. When exactly are we? I know this is the forest near Wedding. But my old hunting trails have long since run dry, and trees I have marked have either been cut down or have grown significantly." Klaus said as he speared the other two rabbits and set them to crackling over the flames. His knives made swift work of the hides, the sharp blades scraping the flesh and setting them out in the sun to dry. Marty uneasily settled down next to him as Klaus cleaned his knives and slid them back in their case.

"How long were you awake?" Marty asked quietly.

"Six hours." Klaus answered. "Since sunrise." He settled down to turning the rabbit on its spit. "Now, answer. When are we?"

Marty took a deep breath. "1985." He said.

"Around sixty years." Klaus muttered. "Why this time?"

"This is…when I lived. Originally." Marty said heavily. Klaus tilted his head slightly as he turned the rabbit.

"And the Reich?" Klaus smirked, pulling out one of the shorter shearing knives and carving a portion of flesh from the rabbit's side. He slid it into his mouth and chewed.

"Gone. I can't tell you when exactly." Marty said, warning bells going off in his head. If he told Klaus anything about how the war ended, let him anywhere near a history book or even another human being, he would have knowledge that would give the Nazis an edge. He had to keep him separate, which meant no more cities, no running off. His hopes of catching a plane withered before his eyes.

"Don't worry. Hitler's selfish aims are the last thing I care about. I know what I am, McFly. I'm a monster, it's not anyone's fault that the Reich was smart enough to put me on a leash." Klaus said, driving the knife into the flesh of the rabbit before him and carving off a leg. He held it out to Marty, who took it gingerly and began eating it. He hadn't eaten rabbit before, but he wasn't about to take Klaus Barbie through a McDonald's. "But that leash, it seems, has conveniently disappeared."

"No. I can't let you go. I've got to get you back to your own time, you can't stay here." Marty said, though the steel in his voice failed at the grin Klaus gave him. He had to come up with something to keep this madman from going out into the world and killing, this time without the threat of the Schutzstaffel hanging over his head. "Anyone weird is killed here. Not detained, not put in a nuthouse, killed." Marty lied.

"I've long lived in a society that counts upon me looking sane. How is this one any different?" Klaus asked, divvying up the rabbit and setting the other two to cooking on the fire. The two men ate, Marty gingerly picking at the gamey meat while Klaus devoured them down to the bone. "But I will stay with you for a while, McFly. I'm curious as to what you're so desperate to get back to." He stretched and rose. "Mind the rabbits." He ordered, heading off into the woods a bit.

Marty tensed until he heard the sound of water hitting the ground and he sighed, putting his hands over his face. He had to get back to America, but what was the use toting this madman around? He couldn't foresee the consequences of killing him, but nor could he predict that sending him back would solve everything. He needed Doc. He missed Doc.

So far the trip had been for nothing. He had come to stop these feelings, to stop him being attracted to men…but all it had done was give him a realization.

He was in love with Dr. Emmet Brown.

**·:·:·:·:·:·:·:·:·:·**

Emmet barely had time to watch the time machine disappear in a rain of blue lightning and flame tracks before the square exploded into chaos. His uncle grabbed his collar and hurled him to the ground as bullets rained across the square, the troops frightened and confused. Emmet felt his eyes drawn to Klaus Barbie's peaked cap being slowly consumed by the flaming tire tracks, the cloth curling up and hissing.

A voice boomed across the square, full of authority, thunder rolling across the ears of the troops and stopping their confused firing dead.

"Schweigen!" Himmler roared across the square, the single barked command having brought quiet. All eyes were upon the high command. Hitler's stunned silence, Goebbels' obvious fear, and Himmler's cold command of obedience. "Schweigen." Himmler repeated, more softly this time, and looked to Hitler. The man stood and put his hand on Goebbels' shoulder to still his panic, looking down at the group. The soldiers, von Braun, and Emmet Brown.

"Keine Panik." Hitler said, his voice soft but carrying enough strength to easily reach the ears of the farthest soldiers. "Doktor von Braun. Erklären was passiert ist."

Von Braun wasn't sure he could explain what had happened. He offered his hand to Emmett and tugged the boy to his feet. "Mein Fuhrer, Um ehrlich zu sein habe ich keine Ahnung. Mein Neffe, aber tut." He gestured to Emmet. „Auf Englisch, verbreiten du nicht diese." His uncle warned. Emmet nodded, there was no need for anyone else to know about the time machine if they could help it.

Emmet looked directly at Hitler, lifting his hand in a weak salute that the Chancellor quickly waved away. "I have to say this in English…no one else can know." He said, his voice weak. Even he hadn't seen the time machine in action.

Hitler nodded. "I understand." He said. "But not here. Come, we will speak in private." He looked to Himmler and pulled the man close, whispering into his ear. Himmler nodded and left. Goebbels began to raise his voice in protest, but Himmler barked a swift word at him and the propaganda minister got up and silently left after Himmler. Emmet looked to Von Braun.

"Go." His uncle said. "Say it was destroyed, and speak no more of it. I'll arrange for you to go back home." he smirked and shook his head, patting Emmet's shoulder. "You know…I had an inkling…but I never believed it was real until I saw it just now. You're a greater scientist than I ever will be…never stop." He smiled and left Emmet alone in the square.

Emmet took a deep breath and followed Hitler's retreating back.


	23. The Shirt Off Your Back

The teenager looked over at his adversary. Klaus Barbie settled in obediently to the passenger seat next to him, smirking tolerantly. Marty had given him a strict order to stay close, but Klaus seemed to be following it more out of amusement than anything else. Marty took a deep breath and looked at the fuel gauge. "We're out of gas." He mumbled. "This would happen to me. It always happens to me."

"Where exactly are we going, McFly? Or do you know?" Klaus asked, unbuttoning his jacket and folding it carefully down by his feet. He withdrew a leathery package from the jacket and settled it on his lap. Marty looked over at him, seeing him gently roll the knife roll open and slide the skinner that had affixed him to the top of the car alongside its fellows. Wonderful. Not only was the madman armed, but he had a barrage. Marty felt his skin crawl when he looked over the smaller tools. Tiny hooks, spikes, a wicked looking garrote wire…all with delicate, yellowed human ivory gracing their handles.

Marty swallowed hard and looked through the windshield. "America. To figure out how to get you home. Emmett…Doc…is there." He said quietly.

"The scientist who actually made the time machine. That boy." Klaus smirked. "The one you're in love with."

Marty stared at him.

"Oh come now. It's my job to read people." Klaus scowled and settled back in the seat. "Do you really think I missed that kiss back in the laboratory? The fawning looks he gave you, the way he tenderly touched that wound on your arm? Please. I've seen desperate lovers before. How old is he now…Seventy? Older?" he cackled.

Marty felt a blush creeping along his neck and he shoved the DeLorean into neutral, getting out of the car. He swallowed and put his shoulder to the sloping rear of the car, hearing the tires crunch under him. He grunted, pushing with all his might, and the DeLorean rolled forward. He quickly ran up to the frame of the car next to the windshield and guided the car into the bushes. He shut the gull wing doors and locked them, Klaus slipping out as the boy came to lock his side of the car. "We've got to go get gas. I've got some money. You're not leaving my sight…you'll go and butcher a truckload of tourists or something." Marty mumbled.

"Hardly. They taste terrible and I can't eat seventy pounds of meat on my own, let alone a few hundred." Klaus said, unwrapping the knife roll and sliding a length of cord from one of the empty knife spaces nearest the end. It was plain hemp rope with metal fastenings that he clipped onto one end of the knife roll. He wrapped the cord twice around his upper thigh and clipped it to the other end. Marty was impressed. The leather hugged his outer thigh, while the knobs and handles of the torture instruments poked out just far enough for Klaus to grab them swiftly. "Come. We'll purchase some petrol cans and get some food."

Marty chewed his lip. "I can't let you get anywhere near the gas station…but I can't let you out of my sight either." He muttered. He couldn't let Klaus see anything new, nothing modern. It was one thing to go into the past and see everything antiquated, yet another to have someone from the past see the future.

"Come now. Do you honestly think I'll be able to copy anything from a look? There are hundreds of theories about what your world looks like. Science fiction authors mostly, and from the looks of Berlin they've gotten it dreadfully wrong." Klaus said, folding his arms across his chest. Marty looked him over for any more Nazi marks. Satisfied that the torturer was standing in front of him with the jackboots, white shirt, and jodhpurs all devoid of Nazi symbols, he began walking out of the brush. If anything, Klaus would just be taken for someone who liked wearing weird pants. The both of them would.

The man and the teenager set off down the road, Marty stuffing the DeLorean's keys nervously into his pocket. "So do you?" Klaus asked after a few minutes of relaxed walking.

"What?" Marty gritted his teeth, anticipating the reply.

"Love him." Klaus looked completely unconcerned with the answer, drawing one of his short, sharp little knives and flipping it from hand to hand. "And don't try and worm out of it this time. You blushed redder than a maid on her wedding night." He grinned wolfishly. "I already know you're a homosexual."

"I'm not!" Marty protested angrily. "I just…it's just him. No one else. Look, can we walk to a gas station in fucking silence?"

"You cum when I touch you easily enough." Klaus gave him another smirk and flicked the knife up into the air, catching it deftly with his other hand. Marty didn't think he could have gotten redder had someone set him on fire. He knew Klaus was toying with him, it was how the man worked. He couldn't wait to get him back to his own time, and out of his hair.

**·:·:·:·:·:·:·:·:·:·**

As suddenly as the spurts of hemorrhaging came, they stopped. Doc's brain was settling now that Marty had stopped fucking with the time stream that involved his younger self. He blinked blearily, the dull headache in his skull soon fading away as the brain repaired itself. His doctors had panicked, thinking he was bleeding uncontrollably from the brain…which he had been. But it wasn't as if he could tell them that the neurons weren't destroying themselves permanently…simply rerouting. He sighed and looked at the boring surroundings. Enough to kill brain cells, even if Marty's mucking up didn't.

He bit his lip and ran a hand over his aged eyes. God he missed the boy.

All the worrying, the new memories in his brain he could sort through. The conversation with Hitler, reassuring the Fuhrer that the machine had simply vaporized itself. Spending another year or so in Germany with his Uncle, trying to calm his parents' fears that he had simply run off. Going back to them, nervous about how they would react. A short, feverish tryst with a boy in the SA after Marty had left…he swallowed when the memories died away to familiar ones. Squandering his parents' fortune on the building of the time machine, for one. Living in the garage…adopting a dog.

His heart ached softly whenever he thought of Marty. He wished he could have embraced him when he was younger, the old body Marty would come back to now was hardly attractive. He looked at the back of his hand, aged, the veins beginning to be prominent. "I should have been working on keeping cells from degrading, not time travel." He mumbled to himself. His thoughts wandered back to seeing the time machine disappear that day in the square. Marty would be stuck in Germany, present day, if that were true.

If that were true, he couldn't lay here. He had to help him. He had some money, perhaps enough for a plane or boat ticket back? He sat up with a groan, feeling his head pound for a moment. He grimaced and slid out of the hospital bed, unclipping his heart monitor and gently sliding it over the middle finger of the man in the bed next to him. The other patient was fast asleep as Doc eyed the heart monitors, making sure no one had heard the small alarm that had sounded when Doc had removed it.

No one had, no nurses were running to his aid. He nodded in thanks to the sleeping patient and looked down at the IV in his arm. He slid it out with a soft grunt, using the hem of his gown to put pressure on the small bead of blood that appeared. Now for his clothes. He found the plastic bag the hospital had stuck them in after they had washed them for him. He wrung out the tan lab coat lovingly and set it aside, pulling on his pants and eyeing the brown stains on his shirt from the nosebleeds. "Oh for Edison's sake.." he muttered, stuffing the shirt back in the bag and eyeing his bedmate.

He found a respectable black shirt in the man's belongings. Not really his style, he preferred something with a little more flair to it…but it wasn't really an option to run about in a shirt that had a good half pint of blood spilled on it. He slid the shirt over his head and ruffled up his crazed white hair, pulling on his socks, shoes, and finally the lab coat. "Well Emmett Brown, if you've got any funds left now's the time to use them." He told himself. "Crazy boy got himself stuck in Europe."

**·:·:·:·:·:·:·:·:·:·**

Marty snatched the cigarette out of Klaus Barbie's mouth when he came out of the gas station bathroom to see him casually smoking a cigarette near one of the gas pumps. "Are you trying to get us killed?!" he demanded, though the next comment withered in his throat when he saw the way Klaus was looking at him.

"Never do that again." Klaus said coldly.

"You could have blown us all to hell." Marty grumbled. "Explosions aren't my thing." He looked at their two cans of gasoline, quietly filling up. He dug in his pockets and handed Klaus a rather questionable looking sandwich wrapped in plastic. The torturer took it and looked at it in amusement.

"Is this really what passes for food in this era? I'll stick to rabbits." He handed it back to Marty and nodded at the cans. "They're full."

The teenager walked over and stoppered the cans. He'd paid for them and he was fairly sure they'd be ripped off until Klaus had come in and simply stared at the immigrant behind the counter. The man had mumbled a price, taken Marty's money, and thrust the cans at him. Marty was just grateful Klaus hadn't felt the need for some sort of incident. He picked the cans up, not trusting his companion around any sort of incendiary device.

"So what are your plans, McFly? We cannot exactly drive across the Atlantic. If you plan on getting a boat, I doubt you have the money for it." Klaus said casually.

"I've already got a plan." Marty said archly. "We're selling the uniforms."


End file.
